


Paint It Black

by lucifersfavoritechild



Series: Ironstrange Fics [17]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: ... from a certain perspective, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming of Age, Dark Peter Parker, Dark Stephen Strange, Dark Tony Stark, Gets kind of Peter-centric after a certain point, M/M, Multiple versions of characters, Multiverse, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange parenting Peter Parker | Supremefamily | Strange Family, Villain Peter Parker, Villain Stephen Strange, Villain Tony Stark, When you're a family man but you're also a mass-murdering dictator, Will not lose the ironstrange though, With A Twist, villain AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2020-09-23 09:04:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20337601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifersfavoritechild/pseuds/lucifersfavoritechild
Summary: The Sorcerer Supreme’s eyes were glowing green when he spoke in a whisper. “Your Avengers are dead. The world is against you. And when you die, your blood will give my son power such as few have ever known. Was it worth it?” Before Steve could speak, his hand moved, and blood sprayed from the soldier’s throat. “It was for me.”||In one universe, peace and stability were brought through war, bloodshed, and dark magic. Ruled by the Sorcerer Supreme and Iron Man as they raise their son, Earth-1250 has never been happier.But that's not the universe they find themselves in.





	1. Dark Side

_ Earth-1250, 2019 _

Stephen’s hands trailed over the red silk, fixing Peter’s tie as the teen bounced on his feet. “Nervous?”

Peter let out a breath, trying to force himself to calm down. “No.”

Stephen chuckled, stepping back. Peter’s suit was black and red with a gold mandala-arc-reactor pin on the lapel. His hair had been combed, but he was such a mess that he kept running his hands through it, messing it up and letting his curls out. “You look perfect. You’ll do great.”

Peter nodded, looking like he was about to jump out of his skin. He had never grown accustomed to being the center of attention, despite being the guest of honor at dozens of huge events by then. He could put on a good face when he needed to, but he was better off in Tony’s workshop or the courtyard of Kamar-Taj. “It’s just a lot. But I’m gonna do good. I won’t disappoint you.”

Stephen smiled, pressing a fatherly kiss to Peter’s forehead. “You never could.”

That almost made Peter smile.

Then the door was opening, and Tony stepped in, wearing a similar suit to his son, only in red-and-gold. Stephen, in his black-and-red sorcerer’s robes, looked out of place, but you would not have thought so seeing how he smiled when he saw his husband. “Babe,” Tony said, joining his family in Peter’s room, “you need to be in place in twenty minutes or the itinerary is gonna be _ all _ off, and you know how Pepper gets— aww!” He got teary-eyed looking at his son, making Peter blush and turn away. “My little baby’s all grown up!”

“_Dad_,” Peter muttered, his face turning hot and pink. “_Please _ don’t embarrass me today.”

“Of course not, that’s why I’m getting it all out now.” To prove his point, he pulled Peter into a hug, wrapping his arms around his head and spattering kisses over his hair. “My boy! My only child! You’re gonna be a man now, and you won’t love me anymore!”

Peter finally wrestled himself out of Tony’s hold, stumbling back. “_Dad! _ I swear to Agamotto, that won’t happen as long as you don’t do _ that _ in front of anyone else!”

Stephen watched them with fond amusement before stepping away to leave. “I’ll see you two at the ceremony.” He left with a single last, lingering look towards his husband.

Tony chuckled as he watched his son try to fix his hair, finally deciding to lighten up and comfort him. “Hey, it’s gonna be great.” He straightened Peter’s suit jacket. “This is _your day_, okay? Don’t worry about anyone else. Just show up, smile, and have a good time. Doc and I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly.”

Peter nodded, schooling his face like Stephen had taught him. Celebrations had begun around the world the day before and would continue the next day, with parades, festivals, and fireworks. But now it was time for the main event. It was finally Peter’s eighteenth birthday, and the entire world would have their eyes on him.

Tony put on a pair of gold-tinted sunglasses, hiding his eyes. "You ready?"

Peter steeled himself, straightening his spine and nodding. "Ready."

Once they left, it didn't take long for the ceremony to start. The building Peter portaled them to was built in the style of a Roman coliseum minus a few thousand years of wear and tear. It was normally used for training and meeting with large groups of important people, but when nothing else was big or dramatic enough, it made a fine party venue.

Peter sat beside Tony high above the rest, never looking at the sorcerers or aliens or politicians that had gathered to see him. He knew his face would be on every screen around the world. He could not afford to show any hesitation or nervousness, so he didn't give them anything. Instead, he faced his other father, the Sorcerer Supreme.

Stephen stood in the center of the arena, his face cold and closed-off, a complete contrast to how he’d been minutes before. He was completely covered from neck to toe, looking put-together and regal in a way Peter never could. His gloved hands held a knife with a shining obsidian hilt and curved blade.

Before him, Steve Rogers was chained to a set of columns.

The chains were Tony’s own design, made of a melted-down vibranium shield. The once-captain looked tired and ragged, but defiant, eyes blazing with disgust. He had been cleaned for the ritual, but his uniform was filthy and torn from years of hiding, the stars and stripes torn from him. 

Tony was ecstatic to finally capture him weeks before after years of chasing. It sounded poetic. The First Avenger was now the last, and the man who almost killed Tony Stark would die giving his son power.

Stephen moved, standing behind the soldier. He did not waste time; he never did. The blade rested against Rogers’s throat, his pulse moving through it. Stephen’s hand was steady. The world was watching, and no one moved a muscle.

The Sorcerer Supreme’s eyes were glowing green when he spoke in a whisper. “Your Avengers are dead. The world is against you. And when you die, your blood will give my son power such as few have ever known. Was it worth it?” Before Steve could speak, his hand moved, and blood sprayed from the soldier’s throat. “It was for me.”

* * *

_ Earth-199991, 2019 _

Friday scanned the area as Steve and Tony spoke over the comms. “Stark, you know what we’re looking at?”

“According to my scans, the initial burst of energy didn’t leave any radiation, heat, poison, or anything else. Y’know, except for the two people right in the middle of it?”

“How did anyone survive being in the center of that?” Natasha asked from her position in the Quinjet with Bruce, Clint, and Wanda.

“How the hell should I know?” Tony asked, slowly approaching the mini-crater that had formed from the explosion that occurred hours before. “It doesn’t seem natural. We might want to call the witch doctor.”

“Just say you want to see Doctor Strange, Mister Stark,” Peter teased, waiting close to him for instructions. 

“You’re grounded.” Assured that he would probably not explode, Tony got closer, finally managing to get a look at the people in the center of the hole. “It’s— _ fuck_.”

“Mister Stark?” Peter sprung into action without thinking, landing next to Tony. “What’s— oh.”

At their feet, tangled together, lay Stephen Strange and Tony Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to clarify that Earth-199991 is meant to be very similar to the MCU (which is officially Earth-199999), but with differences that will become apparent during the fic (more ironstrange and a living Tony, for example, although technically these are both canon in MY version of the MCU, which is the only valid one, check out From the Top). 
> 
> Also, 1250 is a reference to when Stephen and Tony first met in Infinity War (12:50 is about when Stephen opens the portal and says "Tony Stark")
> 
> I'll try to update pretty regularly, but with school and other bullshit starting in about two weeks, we'll all just have to cross our fingers. Chapter lengths are more reasonable this time around (I don't think there'll be anything like the monster 33k chapter of From the Top), so that's a point in my favor. Wish me luck.


	2. Black Sea

_ Earth-1250, 2019 _

“It was a cool ceremony,” Vers, a famous Kree warrior, said. She wore black pants with a sharply-angled green tunic in the style of her people. Being a warrior race, no Kree ever wore dresses or skirts as they might impede their fighting ability. “I’ve never seen magic up close like that.”

Peter smiled charmingly. "Any compliment from such a well-known warrior such as yourself flatters me, Captain Vers." The first thing Peter always noticed about someone was their eyes. It was something Stephen had taught him, long ago by then, that people lived in their eyes. Vers had brown eyes, not as dark as his father’s. Lively and expressive, but with something dark lurking just beneath the surface. “Of course, blood magic isn’t exactly the most _ typical _ thing we do . . .” It probably wouldn’t do to tell anyone that before Stephen’s ascension to Sorcerer Supreme, blood magic was forbidden in all but the most dire of circumstances and even the late Ancient One didn’t practice it.

Vers’s eyes flitted around the room. “Hopefully I’ll get to see more soon.”

It was the work of years of practice to keep himself from frowning and asking what she meant. The Kree were their newest allies, and Peter suspected that their presence meant something about his fathers’ plans. But so far, nothing had been said to him. Hopefully, that would change now that he was an adult. 

A pair of hands suddenly clapped down on his shoulders, pulling him back slightly as Tony looked over his son’s shoulder at the Kree warrior. “Vers, always a pleasure. Mind if I borrow my son for a minute? Got an announcement to make?”

Vers smiled, absently pulling her gold braid over her chest. “No problem, Stark. Great party, by the way.”

The celebrations that had followed the blood ritual were still filled with important people that Peter had to put on a good face for, but they were decidedly less stressful, allowing him to walk around and speak as he wished. The arena had been covered with a glass dome once Steve Rogers’s body was removed, and it was nearing sunset, with the sky turning pink and orange above them. The black stone walls of the coliseum were decorated with red-and-gold tapestries with a mandala or arc reactor emblazoned on each one. Kree and Asgardian envoys mingled with Kamar-Taj sorcerers, members of the Iron Legion, and appointed ministers. In the center of the arena was a cloudy glass tube, holding something that no one was allowed to see yet, not even Peter himself.

Except it looked like that was about to change. Tony steered him towards the container, Stephen subtly joining them a moment later. The Sorcerer Supreme raised a champagne glass, lightly clinking it with a fork, making a sound that spread through the arena and filled everyone’s ears, drawing their attention to the family. Pepper, Rhodey, Mordo, Princess Shuri, Loki, and Vers were amongst those nearest to the trio in recognition of their prominence.

Tony spoke with a smile. “Thank you, Stephen. And thank all of you, for coming to celebrate our son’s most important birthday.” Not that they had a choice. If anyone had chosen to decline their invitation, they would have been suspected as traitors and killed. “It’s an exciting year for all of us, but especially for you, Peter. And if you’ll accept, I’d like to give your present now.”

Peter couldn’t _ quite _ hide his eagerness as he nodded excitedly. Tony chuckled and signaled to Friday with a slight hand movement. The glass tube opened, revealing what Tony and Stephen had been working on for months now.

“And now, I’m happy to introduce the world to Spider-Man.” A nanite suit stood before them in shining red, black, and gold, with web designs stretched over it and a black spider on the chest. A mask showed only a pair of eyes, white and lined with black. 

Peter instinctively covered his mouth with his hands, tears pricking at his eyes. He hadn’t been invited to his father’s workshop as often lately, but he assumed it was just because they were all busy with preparations for today. Now though, seeing what they’d done for him . . . “Really?” His voice was too infirm, too childish for what he was meant to be.

Tony didn’t care. He was simply happy to see his son’s honest excitement and happiness. “Of course. It’s yours.”

“You’ll need it soon,” Stephen said, speaking no louder than normal, but his voice reverberated through the arena nonetheless. “Because you will join us alongside our new allies as we take our fight for peace and harmony to the stars.”

Gasps peppered the crowd. Amongst the people, only Rhodey, Pepper, Mordo, Vers, and Loki seemed unsurprised.

Peter couldn’t help it. He shot forward and wrapped his arms around Tony’s chest, hugging him and smushing his face against his dad’s shoulder. Tony stumbled for a moment, feeling slightly crushed by Peter’s super-strength but not particularly caring as he hugged him back.

Stephen smiled watching his little family, and for a moment, it was only them in the whole universe, and nothing else mattered.

* * *

_Earth-199991, 2019_

Not knowing what else to do, or even what was going on, the Avengers took the — imposters? clones? copies? versions? — of Stephen and Tony to the Sanctum, where Stephen immediately let them in, barely even seeming to notice the Avengers themselves as he took in what was happening.

“Yes, I know,” Stephen said, shutting down Steve’s attempt to tell him what happened. “We sensed the energy earlier, but at the time, some novices had gotten themselves tangled up with a tentacle monster and needed some help getting . . . separated.” One moment, they were standing in the Sanctum’s parlor, the other Tony and Strange held precariously in Thor and Tony’s arms respectively. Then, they fell back on a huge, cushiony couch, their new guests lying in white infirmary beds as Stephen stood over them.

The others were shaken from the sudden teleportation, but Tony had found enough excuses to visit the Sanctum that it didn’t bother him anymore. He waited a minute as Stephen examined them before saying, “Give it to me straight, doc. It’s cancer, isn’t it?”

Stephen made a sound suspiciously like a choked-off laugh before answering. “Thankfully, no.”

“What is it then?” Bruce asked, seeming more curious than worried. “Shapeshifters? Magic, aliens?”

“Again, no. It’s . . . well, it’s _ us_. Tony and I, just . . . different.” He raised his head, facing Tony rather than the man he’d been speaking to. “You’re aware of the multiverse, of course.”

Tony blinked, comprehension dawning on him immediately. “Theoretically, but I’ve never seen actually _ proof_.”

Peter, who’d been laying across the back of the couch on his stomach, suddenly shot up, practically vibrating with curiosity. “Multiverse? So that’s you guys but from another universe? Oh my God, this _ completely _changes the way we think of things like initial singularity and—”

“Peter,” Stephen interrupted, looking more amused than annoyed, “I'd love to talk to you about it later, but we really do have more pressing concerns at the moment.”

Putter blushed and lay back down. “Sorry.”

Stephen smiled, almost fond, before returning to the task at hand. There was something decidedly _ weird _ about this Tony — _ Stark_, he decided, and _ Strange_, because it was going to get confusing quickly if he didn’t have a way to differentiate all of them — something not quite _ human_. He didn’t think it was mystical, or even alien. Maybe . . . “Tony, have you ever considered technologically augmenting yourself?”

Tony shrugged, surprised by the question. “Sometimes. Did some tests with Extremis a few years back, but it was so dangerous — blow yourself up on accident, dangerous — that I scrapped it. Why, other-me got something up his sleeve?”

Stephen opened one of Stark’s eyes, startled by the traces of electricity he could just barely make out with the aid of his third eye. “I think you might have figured out something _ you _ didn’t.” He wasn’t sure how Extremis would react to the presence of magic, and he didn’t want to try his luck. He switched to the other bed, standing above himself. A strange experience, but not one he was entirely unfamiliar with. 

The first thing he noticed about himself was the gloves that he wore. Black, made of soft leather, and completely covering his hands and wrists, hiding whatever the simply-cut black robes didn’t. Curious, Stephen picked up a hand with his own shaking and scarred one and started to pull the glove off—

Strange shot up in bed, green eyes open and _ angry _ as he yanked his hands away before wrapping them around Stephen’s throat, pulling him to the bed and climbing onto his chest as he tried to choke him to death.

As soon as they could comprehend what was happening, the Avengers leaped into action, each of them grabbing one of the sorcerers and trying to pull them apart. Tony was first, gauntlets immediately covering his arms as he ran forward, jumping on Strange’s back and trying to pull him off. “Thor, a little help!”

With Tony, Thor, and Peter all pulling, it didn’t take long to get Strange down, holding him on the ground with Tony seated on his legs with a repulsor pointed directly at his face. 

Strange stared at him, angry eyes becoming calm and desperate. “Tony? What—” He properly took in the room for the first time, seeing the Avengers, Stark still in bed, and Stephen rubbing his throat painfully, and his eyes immediately shut down. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“Oh sure, just attack the people trying to help you and _then_ ask questions,” Tony snapped angrily. 

Strange shrunk down, carefully holding his hands palm-out. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He had no idea what was happening, but until he did, it was best to appear non-threatening and friendly. He didn’t exactly have the best start, but he’d talked himself out of worse situations. “I didn’t know what was happening, and you frightened me.” He allowed a hint of pain and remorse to seep into his expression. “My hands . . . I was scared.”

The other him, Stephen, was sitting on the bed and cradling his own hands against his chest. _ It seems I’ve hit a nerve. _

Strange would have liked to smirk . . . until he looked more and saw Stark lying down, still peacefully unconscious. “Is that my Tony?”

Tony looked back, seeing Stephen standing over Stark defensively. “Yeah. Why?”

“Can I see him?” His voice was pleading, small and innocent.

Hesitant, but now feeling kind of bad for frightening the guy so much, Tony nodded, sliding from his legs to the floor. Strange stood up slowly, never moving too fast as he walked over to his Stark and sat beside him, taking one of his hands and lacing the fingers with his own. “He’s alright, isn’t he?”

Stephen, watching him carefully, nodded. “More or less. He’ll probably wake up on his own soon.” His eyes fell to Strange’s gloved hand gently holding Stark’s. “I assume you know each other?”

Strange seemed amused. “I should think so. I’m his husband.”

* * *

_Earth-1250, 2019_

Peter sat quietly, eyes flicking from person to person as the council argued. Hours ago, his fathers had disappeared, leaving no word of their whereabouts, not even to him. The official word for now was that they were on a mission that required their personal attention, a lie told by Pepper before the council even had time to convene.

Peter was in the middle of the table. Tony and Stephen were meant to sit at the head and tail of the table, with Pepper Potts, James Rhodes, Mordo, and Wong between them. They were all there now but the two most important, arguing about what should or even _ could _ be done. Peter, sat in the middle of it all, felt helplessly, hopelessly _ small_. Small and young and still a child that did not know how to handle the problems presented to him. 

He tried to think how Stephen might. What did they know? _ Nothing. _ No, not true. They knew that it had something to do with magic; Mordo had sensed as much, and they were supposed to be at Kamar-Taj to look at what relics might be useful for their next conquest. Peter knew that whatever it was that happened, Tony and Stephen couldn’t have suspected it. They were too smart and powerful to do anything or go anywhere they didn’t want to. Did that mean someone they didn’t know, someone they would never think of? Or someone close to them, a traitor in their midst? Peter hated that he didn’t know.

He turned his thoughts to what might be done now. It was his job to lead; he had been taught to rule for years, and now that he was needed, he was letting everything collapse in front of him. He needed to be in control. He needed to fix it.

Peter stood, making the others quiet as they wondered what he might do. He tried to fill his voice with command and power. “Here’s what we’ll do until we know more. Rhodey will substitute my father’s position of Head of the Iron Legion, and Mordo will do the same for the sorcerers. Both will send scouts across the Earth to search for them in case they’re still here. We don’t know, and I want to be sure. Wong, I want you to search the libraries for a solution or a clue, whatever you can find. Aunt Pepper will do PR and damage control, make sure no one finds out or thinks anything is out of the ordinary, and handle any political or state problems. Whatever happens, we can’t let our empire fall to pieces in the meantime. And I will personally spend all my time looking for them.”

Peter wondered if they would argue. He thought they might. He was still only eighteen, and they were adults, hardened by years of war and experience. But no one did. Maybe they agreed that it was the best course of action for now, or maybe they didn’t want to discourage him from trying to lead and help. They had all known and loved him since he was a kid, and would not want him to fail. Peter was glad for it. He would need them, their skills and their affection and their guidance. 

“How do you plan to find them?” Mordo asked, not judging or upset, but curious, wanting to help.

Peter’s family and the council lived where the Avengers’ compound once stood. It was destroyed in the Heroic Civil War, and the building that took its place was both magic and technology at once, designed in the style of Kamar-Taj with advanced materials, security measures and wards etched into every stone and bit of metal or wire. Far below the basement, closer to the center of the Earth than any other manmade structure, was a room that only Stephen Strange ever entered. No one else was allowed inside. Anyone that interrupted him once in there risked death. With him gone, only Peter knew what was in there and how to use it. 

“I have an idea.”

* * *

_Earth-199991, 2019_

Stephen brought the other sorcerer a blanket, draping it over his shoulders. Strange thanked him quietly before continuing to speak. “When Thanos attacked, he drove the other Avengers insane. Tony and I were only protected because of my magic. I didn’t have time to get to the others. By the time he was done, there was nothing to do for them. They were as savage, thoughtless animals, destroying everything in their path. They would have burned the world down before turning on each other like a pack of rabid dogs.” His voice wavered. “I tried _ everything_. Every spell, potion, ritual, relic I could think of, and Tony did the same. But in the end . . . we did what we had to.” A single tear fell down his cheek. He told lies as easily as breathing, giving away nothing he did not want them to see. As he spoke, the words flowed into Stark’s mind, so when he woke he would know what happened and not give away their cover.

Tony, stricken and pitying, set a hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. You can’t save everyone.”

Strange held his hand and squeezed, pretending to be grateful. “I tell my Tony that all the time. I don’t know if he’s ever heard me.” He shook his head, determining to go on with his ‘tale’. “When it was down, we were both ridden with guilt. We wanted to go away from the world, but we couldn’t abandon it. So instead, we did what we could. Used magic and tech to rebuild the world, make it something safer, _ better_. I don’t know if we quite succeeded, but we always tried.”

“Do you know how you got here?” Steve asked, all business, though there was sympathy in his eyes.

Strange shook his head. “I don’t know. We were about to go to Kamar-Taj to look at some relics we thought might be useful, and then . . . I woke up here.” It was a challenge not to twitch and rage having to speak to the Avengers (never mind_ Wanda_, the red bitch who never deserved to call herself that much), but he always liked a challenge. He looked up hopefully. “Do you think you can help us go home?”

“I can try,” Stephen said. “Suffice it to say that I have some experience with moving through the multiverse. Any help I can give, you’ll have.”

“Thank you. I just hope we’re not gone too long. I can’t imagine what our son is going through right now—”

“Son?” Tony repeated in shock. “We have— you have a kid?” Tony turned his head to avoid Stephen’s look. “Who?”

Strange looked at Spider-Man, standing in between Tony and the Avengers. “Peter.”

* * *

_Earth-1250, 2019_

Peter entered the hall alone, feet gliding along dark, carved stone. The heat was suffocating, but he pushed through, making his way to the end of the room. There, a hollowed-out pool was inches from his feet. Peter had only seen it once, but even a fool would know there was no water in it. Rather, the liquid was ink-black and oily, with tiny flecks of silver in the mix. He’d only seen it once when Stephen showed him, preparing him for the day he was a Master of the Mystic Arts. But even most sorcerers didn’t dare mess with such forces.

Peter was not a Master, still an apprentice. But he was Spider-Man, the son of the Sorcerer Supreme and Iron Man. He would do what was needed and nothing less.

Wearing his apprentice robes, Peter closed his eyes, whispered a prayer to the universe, and sunk into the pool of darkness.


	3. Fear the Fever

_ Earth-1250, 2012 _

The day Tony Stark and Stephen Strange met started as a decidedly ordinary one.

Peter and Tony were in the tower’s workshop. Peter was working on his homework while Tony looked over plans for Clint’s new arrows. Ever since the attack New York, the relationship between himself and the other Avengers had soured. Hopefully, his latest round of gifts would help smooth things over. 

And if they didn’t, there was always the self-destruct mode that only Tony could activate.

Tony held up an empty apple juice box. “Pete, think we could do with more juice?”

“Dad,” his recently-adopted son whined, “I’m eleven, not _ six_.”

“Well, maybe _ I _ want more juice.”

“Aren’t you thirty-something?”

“Keep thinking that.” Tony sighed and dragged himself out of the chair, reaching for a juice box—

—and fell through the floor, landing in a plush chair across from a _ really _hot man in Hogwarts clothes. 

Tony stared at the man. “Hi.”

“Pleasure to finally meet you, Mister Stark. Would you like something to drink?”

“No . . . uh, I don’t think . . . actually, I was about to get apple juice.”

Stephen raised a brow, but went ahead and summoned a glass of apple juice for his guest. Tony, watching him closely, did not drink it.

“Okay, thanks, who are you?”

“I’m Doctor Stephen Strange. I’m a . . . fan of your work.”

“Oh.” Okay, crazy magic man was a stalker with a crush. Tony had talked his way out of worse situations . . . probably. “Really, it was the aliens who invaded. I just cleaned up the mess, no need to thank me.”

“I’m not talking about that.” Stephen took Tony’s glass and drank from it. “I meant your more recent work with the oil companies. _ Very _ convenient for those people to die just before they could start drilling.”

Tony shrugged. “We only have one planet. I’m not mad about it.”

“I should think not, considering you did it.”’

Tony hardly reacted. “Got any proof?”

Stephen tilted his head, smiling. “Let’s just say that I see more than most people. But then, that’s not hard. The man with three eyes is king in the world of the blind.”

“I don’t think that’s how that saying goes.”

“It is around here. The point, Mister Stark, is that I agree whole-heartedly with what you did. And what you _ will _ do, for that matter.” He was wearing a necklace that hadn’t been there moments ago, a cord with a rune-covered gold eye hanging from it. “We have the same goals, only different means. Knowing the problems that will come, I believe we will greatly benefit from an alliance.”

“And what, exactly, do you think our _ mutual goals _ are?”

Magic-man’s eyes were blue-and-green, but for a moment, they seemed to shine silver. “To protect the world, even if it means doing ugly things or removing those who would stand in our way.”

“Yeah, okay, and why exactly should I trust you after you kidnapped me from my home and brought me fuck-knows-where?”

Stephen smiled, leaning towards him. “If you don’t trust me, then you’ll just have to open your eye.” His hand moved to Tony’s forehead.

* * *

_Earth-199991, 2019_

Once Stark had woken, and after an enthusiastic reunion-kiss that was very awkward for everyone else, they set to work finding a way to send them back. Strange was glad to see most of the Avengers return to the compound. It would be far easier to keep up the facade if they only had to put up with a few people. He would have happily erased all memories of himself and his husband from everyone who’d seen them in this universe, but even he had to admit that they needed help. They were without allies, without even their son or closest advisors, and their resources were not their own. Later, on the other hand . . .

Tony stayed with them at the Sanctum. Stephen’s portals allowed him to easily bring some tech over to see if it could be used to track the sort of energy they’d exploded into the universe with. Stephen made a few adjustments to the equipment and gave Tony a room to use. “You can stay as long as you think is necessary,” Stephen said, somehow feeling more awkward with this then when Strange had sat in his husband’s lap and made out in front of everyone. “Since you said you wanted to help.”

“Thanks,” Tony said. They were standing outside the room that Strange and Stark were staying in for the moment, neither him or Stephen quite capable of keeping their eyes from flicking to the door every few seconds. “Happy to help.” He couldn’t help thinking of the obvious, _ shining _joy in Strange’s eyes when it became apparent that Stark was okay. “Kind of makes you think, doesn't it?”

Stephen, either oblivious to his meaning or messing with him, said, “About the multitude of possibilities existing throughout the Multiverse and the potential research applications for both magic and science? Yes, it does.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I meant about . . . You know. Things that could potentially . . . happen.” God, he sounded like a teenager trying to flirt with their crush. 

Stephen nodded. “Certainly. I’m thinking of writing something on how this could change humanity's view of nature and self. Fascinating stuff.”

_ Oh, I give up with you. _ “You're no fun.”

Stephen smirked, blue-green eyes shining. “I’m plenty fun.” He leaned, whispering in Tony’s ear as the other man was frozen in place. “You just haven't seen it yet.”

Stephen left before Tony could even think to respond, leaving him watching as the sorcerer walked off to the library. 

Tony finally shook it off enough to join him in the library, monitoring the sensors from his sunglasses. Strange was already there, which . . . was weird, right? He’d been in the room just a minute ago, but now he was there before Tony, sitting cross-legged on a table and reading a book like he lived there, like he’s always been there and never left. 

Tony sat on a couch across from him. “Where’s the missus?”

Strange continued reading. “He’s resting. His heart isn’t what it used to be, and I wouldn’t want him to strain himself.” In truth, Tony was reaching out with Extremis, trying to see if he could connect to the internet in this universe like he did in the other and how much he could get away with before people noticed. It was bound to be different since this Earth didn’t have the brain implants that Tony had introduced years before that allowed him to keep an eye on people from afar. They’d mostly been monitored by advanced A.I.’s looking for crime, but occasionally they’d been instrumental in rooting out traitors. “I was worried since it took him so much longer than me to wake up, so I insisted he stay down for a while. He’d wear himself out in no time otherwise.”

Tony nodded, thinking this sounded perfectly reasonable. He smiled at Stephen, nudging him with his foot. “You’re such a mother hen.” Really, only towards himself and Peter. Which Tony definitely did _not _read into, no sir . . .

Stephen rolled his eyes, levitating three books around him. “Tony, I’m busy.” His tone didn’t have its usual bite.

Tony sighed dramatically in defeat, kicking back on the couch and giving Friday his attention as the sorcerers worked silently. It didn’t take long for his thoughts to wander. He was used to that happening around Stephen, ever since they returned from Titan. It was almost just a part of his day by this point. But that wasn’t what he was thinking about.

Only a few feet of space separated him from Strange. Occasionally, their eyes would meet, and Strange would smile at him. Which was fine, or it should have been. But there was something . . . _ off _about him. The more Tony looked at him, the more obvious it seemed, even though he couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly. It seemed like Strange was as handsome, charming, and intelligent as his counterpart, but there was something in him that Stephen didn't have. Strange was . . . paler, to start. His hair was inky black, and he had green-silver eyes utterly devoid of blue. His clothes were of a simpler, cleaner design, all black with ancient red markings on the front. Although he wore gloves, his hands didn’t shake like Stephen’s.

Somehow, Tony didn't think it was any of those things that were weird about Strange. 

Tony was wrenched from his thoughts when the library door opened, immediately followed by Stark jumping up on the table Strange was on and laying his head in his lap. “You were gone too long, I missed you.”

Strange sighed long-sufferingly, allowing a smile on his face for their hosts’ benefit. “You’re supposed to be _ resting_.” Despite his apparent annoyance, his gloved fingers brushed through Tony’s hair.

Stark pouted. “I was _ bored_.”

“You’re worse than Peter.”

Tony shifted, a smile tugging at his mouth. Hearing that Peter was other-him’s adopted son was almost the weirdest thing he’d heard all day, but it wasn’t _ bad_. It was no secret that he cared about him, the way he thought a father _ should _ care about their kid. But it did make him wonder what exactly had happened to Peter’s family that he ended up in Stark’s care.

Sitting together in their own little world, Strange spoke to his husband telepathically. _ What did you find? _

_ Nothing yet, _ Stark admitted in annoyance. _ I can’t access anything here. This Sanctum isn't like yours. I might be able to get into the compound’s info if we go there, though. _

_ Hm. Let’s not yet. We haven’t found anything here so far, and I want to cover all our bases before we start to draw the wrong sort of attention. _ He leaned down and kissed the tip of Stark’s nose. _ But if we’re to do something, then we shouldn't wait too long. _

Stark squeezed his husband’s thigh reassuringly. From the couch, Stephen and Tony were oblivious to the conversation going on, and the four of them continued their research into the night.

* * *

By the end of the day came, they’d still found nothing. Stephen finally sent word to Wong in Kamar-Taj asking him to search the library there for anything that might help. Strange and Stark returned to their room under the guise of still being tired from their journey through the multiverse. The sorcerer used lay in bed and let his astral form leave his body, straying from the sanctum for fear of Stephen catching him and going instead to the compound, walking through the building and watching the Avengers move about. His husband sat beside him, fiddling with a bit of equipment that he’d nabbed from Tony, trying to make it into something that would let him tap into the internet like he used to with Extremis. 

They left Tony and Stephen in the parlor. Stephen fiddled with the leather strands of his belts as he spoke. “You could stay the night, if you want. Everything’s already here, and I know you don’t sleep much anyway.”

“I’ve actually been trying to sleep more,” Tony said with a slight smile. “Doctor’s orders.”

“I never _ ordered _ you—”

“Oh, I don’t know, your voice can get very . . . deep. Makes it hard to resist. Lady wizards must go crazy.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t notice.”

Tony chuckled before tilting his head, pretending to think it over. “Might take you up on the offer, doc.”

“Doc? Whatever happened to asshole?”

“I like to mix it up. Keep you on your toes.”

Stephen smirked, an expression that Tony sometimes thought was his default, and stepped to the side, gesturing to the stairs that led to the bedrooms. Tony stepped forward—

Stephen’s hand shot around, wrapping around Tony’s wrist as the sorcerer stumbled forward, startled. Tony half-caught him by the waist, worried eyes searching for the problem. “Stephen? Are you okay, are you hurt? What is it?”

Stephen shook his head. “No, it’s . . . it’s Wong.” He took Tony’s hand, wrapping it with his. “C’mon.”

Tony followed him, ignoring the rush that came from feeling Stephen’s scarred fingers against his own callused ones. Stephen didn’t notice, too busy leading them to a room that, once opened, showed two other doors, each with a huge symbol set in circles that matched the door behind them. In the center of the room was a brass and wood podium that once held the Eye of Agamotto. A golden Earth shined above it. Wong stood at the head of the room under an arch that led to the library. He nodded to Stephen. “Strange.”

“Wong.” Stephen was looking around, off-balanced, almost jumpy. “You said you found something?”

“Yes. Though I don’t think you’ll like it.” He checked behind himself to make sure no one was there before looking up. The Earth shifted, changing into a black orb. A man’s face appeared on it.

“Wong?” Tony looked between the librarian standing before them and the man looking down on them. “Two Wongs? What’s next, a—”

“You’re definitely like him,” Other-Wong said, face creasing in disdain. “Anyone can copy a face, but that . . . You’re Tony Stark.”

Tony looked around, wondering why it felt like he was on trial. “Am I not supposed to be?”

Wong scowled. “It went wrong. The spell wasn’t supposed to send them to another Earth.” He paused, thinking. “It was probably Strange that did it. The spell was meant for humans, and only the Vishanti know what that man has done to himself in the name of power.”

“I’m sorry,” Stephen said, seeming as confused as Tony, “what did I do exactly?”

The man scoffed. “You’d be surprised.” 

“Let me get this straight,” Tony said, looking to normal-Wong, “this guy is from the same universe as . . .”

Wong nodded. Other-Wong said, “Unfortunately. The spell was meant to take them to a dimension or universe where they would die or be killed instantly. Instead, I’ve inflicted them on you. My apologies.”

“You wanted to kill me?” Tony asked. “Not gonna lie, Wong, I feel kind of threatened.”

“Stark, if you were half so bad as your counterpart, you would understand.” 

Stephen and Tony shared a look. “Tell us.”

* * *

_Earth-1250, 2019_

It took hours for Peter to think. His mind was lost, scattered in a thousand different directions across the multiverse. He didn’t know what was happening. He _ couldn’t_. It was beyond his human scope, and he was lost to the whims of the uncaring world.

It was only after he'd been soaked in the warmth of a million suns that he felt something. There was a sense of familiarity, of warmth and love and family. It was only for a moment, but it was enough for him to focus. The single molecule of himself that felt it called out to the rest of him, pulling them together, closer and closer, until he was conscious enough to recognize his fathers. He felt something that he vaguely recognized as shock when he realized that they were in a different universe. _ Earth-199991— _

Peter launched himself out of the black pool, falling on the floor as he tried to breathe again, his hands running up and down his goosebump laden arms. He was shaking like a leaf, his spider-senses going haywire as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Overstimulation drove him insane, making him tear at his clothes, unable to bear the soft fabric on his skin. A whimper broke free from his mouth as his blood and heart pounded in his ears. Red tears caressed his cheeks.

It took hours for him to be able to sit up. It was longer still before he could think free of pain. When he finally did, he smiled, triumphant. _ I found them. _

* * *

_Earth-199991, 2019_

“If you ask them, they’ll tell you that everything they’ve ever done is for the good of the world. They might even believe it. But that never stopped them from destroying the lives of those who stood in the way. Or who they thought might.”

“They started small. Covered their tracks, recruited followers, kept to killing people they were certain had done wrong. But it was never enough. People started asking questions. Then they disappeared. Attacks increased, mystical and technological alike, and if people were killed before they could get there . . . well, all the more reason to give them more power. Who else could protect the world as well as them? Who else was as devoted, as powerful?” 

“But it didn’t last. Things stopped adding up, and they stopped caring about covering it up. They had a new plan. They thought they were the only ones who could protect the world, and they refused to answer to a higher authority. Stephen ascended to Sorcerer Supreme, and they declared war by killing half of the Avengers in a single strike and taking New York City.”

Tony sucked in a breath, his hand blindly scrabbling for Stephen’s.

Wong paused in his tale, his eyes distant and haunted. “I followed Strange. For years, I followed him loyally and believed in his cause. He was the Sorcerer Supreme, and I thought of him as a friend. When they seized power, they used it for good, killed the dangerous and helped the oppressed. Even after all they’ve done, there are more people in our world who love them than hate them. But the things he did . . . Old magic, forbidden spells and rituals, relics that had been locked away. He started to use blood magic to make himself stronger, more powerful. And there’s blood to spare in our world.”

“I knew they would kill me if they knew of my change of heart. I’ve undermined them when I could. I moved around the remaining Avengers, prevented him from finding out about things hidden in Kamar-Taj that would have aided them, even turned Strange against fanatical followers with whispers of treason. But in the end, it didn’t matter. They killed Steve Rogers weeks ago, and the entire world watched.”

Wong closed his eyes, one hand forming a fist. “I hate that I didn’t do anything then. I stood and watched as the last person fighting them was killed like a dog in front of me. But what happened after that . . .” He looked up sharply. “They had Earth in the palm of their hands, but it wasn’t enough for them. Nothing ever will be. They found new allies on Asgard and Hala so they could keep fighting on other planets, bring more people under their fist. And I knew that if I did not work quickly, then nothing could ever be done.”

He stood back some, looking at them. “And now you’ve found them.”

* * *

_Earth-1250, 2019_

Mordo looked up as he finished lighting the candles, looking at Peter sitting in the middle of the symbol on the floor. “You’re sure of this?”

Peter nodded. “My dads are there. I need to bring them back. They’d do it for me.”

Mordo looked worried, but didn’t disagree. Peter checked one last time that everything was ready. He was wearing the red apprentice robes that Stephen had given him. Around his wrists and ankles, gold bands worked as nanites containers, ready to produce his Spider-Man suit at a moment’s notice. Mordo stood just outside the circle that contained dozens of complex geometric symbols. Candles threw red light against the walls and burning incense made smoke fill his nose. 

Peter breathed out, not giving himself a chance to change his mind before he spoke. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eviiiiiiiil Stephen and Tony: *make out*  
Everyone else: :| okay then


	4. Tightrope

_ Earth-1250, 2012 _

_ Stephen leaned into Tony’s space as the other man spoke, pretending not to notice how he was pressing against his back. Tony tensed before relaxing a second later, allowing Stephen to share his space without comment. Stephen wanted to kiss his neck, to pull his wine red shirt down and away from his shoulders so he could lavish attention on him in front of everyone, before Pepper and Rhodey and Wong and Mordo and the whole world— _

“What are you doing?”

Stephen snapped out of his memory when the kid spoke to him. _ Peter. _ Tony’s adopted son was someone he’d seen on occasion at the compound where Stark’s team had set up base, but never close, and they’d never spoken.

Stephen held up the leather-bound books he was holding. “I brought these to show your father.” One was something all of Kamar-Taj’s residents read when they were a novice, meant to introduce them to some of the most common forces they would work with as sorcerers. The second was about the Vishanti, the trio of god-like beings that granted them knowledge and power. He thought they would be useful in helping Tony understand the sorcerers and their work better. And since the texts were not in any human language, it would be necessary for him to translate and explain things for Tony. A strategic move, designed to tie them closer.

_ Nothing more. _

Peter seemed fascinated, his face lighting up with curiosity. Stephen noticed his eyes, large and brown and doe-like. _ Tony’s eyes. _ It didn’t mean anything, he knew, but he thought it must be a sign that the boy Tony Stark had taken in shared his eyes. 

“Can I see them?”

Stephen tilted his head, considering. “I can show them to you, but they’re not in English. Or any language you’d know.”

“I don’t know any other languages.”

“Really?” That seemed like a poor idea. If the boy ever meant to join his father (which he might not, for all Stephen knew, but if he did) then he would need to be able to do many things, amongst them communicate with allies and enemies, not all of whom would be human. He would speak to Tony about it, and if the man didn’t take kindly to a virtual stranger giving him advice about his son . . . well. He could always erase the memory later. “Regardless, you won’t be able to read these.”

“Oh.” Peter looked disappointed before brightening again. “Can you show me some magic? Since you’re my dad’s friend?”

“. . . Okay.”

That afternoon, Tony would find them in the training yard, Stephen watching with the barest hint of a smile as the kid tried to form a portal and managed a few sparks.

* * *

_ Earth-199991, 2019 _

Strange watched with slowly darkening eyes as this universe’s Stephen relayed the information they’d gotten from Wong (_their _ Wong, his ally, his lieutenant, his _ friend_, _ traitor, liar, LIAR—_) to the Avengers gathered at the compound.

“We can’t verify any of this,” Tony informed them, the _ wrong _ Tony, the one that was getting him and his husband into so much trouble right now. “But we don’t want to take any chances. Be careful, don’t let anyone in, and if you see them, don’t engage.”

_ Don’t engage. _ Strange wondered if perhaps he was too angry, his hands shaking with the need to _ hurt_, his eyes glowing green as hot blood stained his neck red, to be thinking rationally.

He didn’t particularly care.

As soon as he was back in his body, his hand wrapped around Stark’s wrist. His husband barely moved, though his eyes showed he was startled. “Doc?”

Strange sat up. “_Come on._”

* * *

Tony followed Stephen through the Sanctum, watching the doctor pull down a relic that looked like it was made from hundreds of thin pieces of wood interlocking. Stephen was muttering under his breath, considering sending to Kathmandu for help. "It might be a good idea, but I don't want to leave Kamar-Taj with its defenses lowered if what Wong said was true. If Mordo were here . . . but I can't take Wong away, and there's no one else I trust enough."

"It might not be," Tony said, neither of them really believing it. "We only have his word."

"I _ know_." Stephen half-growled in frustration, his feet silent as they walked to the bedroom the couple was staying in. "But they're here. If I can just contain them for a while, there are ways to tell—"

Stephen stopped suddenly, staring at the door. "They're gone."

"What?" Tony asked. That couldn't be . . . what the hell had their lives become in the past two days?

Stephen wrenched the door open. The room was empty. "They're_ gone!_"

Tony looked around. "Well, this is a bitch of a situation." He put on his blue-tinted sunglasses. "Fri, ring up the compound, tell the team to get together and be on the lookout for our little visitors, okay?"

After a brief pause, Friday replied, "Boss, I can't contact the compound. Something's blocking me."

Stephen and Tony stared at each other. Then— "_Fuck._" The sorcerer pulled his sling-ring from the belts around his waist and spun a portal into reality, pulling Tony through a moment later. 

Seconds after they were gone, a door opened downstairs. Peter Stark leaned his head into the hallway. “Hello?”

* * *

Stephen ran through the darkened compound with Tony around his side, nanites forming into a suit around the latter. Shining orange mandalas decorated Stephen’s fists as they burst into the training room. The place was a wreck, equipment burnt half to ash and thrown around the room. The Avengers sat around the room, bruised, bleeding, but alive.

Stephen crouched next to Sam, who was closest with one wing ripped from his back and blood pouring from a cut on his forehead. “Are you alright?”

Sam nodded, wincing as he did so. “We’re all alive and accounted for. Trust me, I checked before I vomited.”

“You should be in the infirmary,” Stephen chided, going into full-doctor mode. 

“Wouldn’t be much use,” Steve said, his voice weak. His hair smelled singed. “Electricity’s down through the whole compound. Nothing’s working. _ Stark _ made sure of that.” The last sentence was sharp, practically spat out. 

“They just . . . left?” Tony looked around. Everyone was injured, but not irreparably. The building was still standing, though damaged.

“I doubt it was out of the goodness of their hearts,” Stephen murmured, his fingers flashing gold as he closed the cut above Sam’s eye. “They must have known we’d come soon, they’re not stupid.”

Tony frowned, following his train of thought. “You think it’s a distraction? Get us down here?”

Stephen looked at him. _ Make the Avengers look like the target, make them jumpy and paranoid and injured, then . . . _With them gone, the Sanctum was unguarded. He hadn’t even told Wong he was leaving. He stood. “I have to go.”

Tony started. “What?”

“No one’s at the Sanctum.” He summoned a glowing orange-gold portal, stepping forward. Warmth blossomed in his chest when he noticed Tony hot on his heels. “They’re probably ransacking the library already, Vishanti only know—” He stopped, staring up at the person standing on the staircase. “Peter? What are you—” He stopped, looking at the kid. Peter was dressed in sorcerer’s robes, the dull red of an apprentice, with a gold band around each wrist. He tensed, grabbing Tony’s wrist and shooting him a look to quiet him.

Peter seemed confused, looking between them with open brown eyes. “Dad? Is that . . . what are you wearing?”

Tony and Stephen shared a look, instinctively knowing that they were thinking the same thing. _ Fuck._

* * *

Stephen, deciding it wouldn’t do to have Peter there if he was anything like his fathers, sent word to Kamar-Taj to send people to defend the Sanctum. It only took a few (highly awkward) minutes for Renna and Aemma, two women who Stephen knew to be excellent sorcerers, to arrive and relieve him of his duties for the time being. Stephen stayed behind a moment to make sure the wards and protection spells were strengthened before joining the others at the compound.

Where Peter was.

_ Both _ Peters.

The two teenagers stared at each other, seeming more fascinated than weirded out. Peter — _ they needed to figure out a way to differentiate between the two, it didn’t make sense to call them the same thing, and he was pretty sure that the second Peter didn’t have the same last name, and he couldn’t imagine calling him Stark or Strange, so their Peter would just have to put up with being the odd one out _ — _ Parker_, leaned forward, looking at his counterpart curiously. “Why does your hair look so much better than mine?”

“I have this special shampoo.” Peter, the boy from the other world who had taken in the compound with a familiar expression, looked Parker up and down. “I feel like I’m taller than you.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I’m like, _ ninety-six _percent sure.”

_ Oh, for fuck’s sake. _ “There’s two of them,” Tony whispered to Stephen. The sorcerer didn’t react, his shoulders tense with suspicion. Tony understood and wished he didn’t. It was _ Peter_, a different Peter, but still the young teen they all knew . . . 

But that wasn’t true, was it? They’d learned that.

“How did you get here?” Steve asked, favoring his left side.

Peter didn’t seem to notice the sorry state of the team, or the fact that the building was running on emergency lights. Or maybe he was just subtler than Parker. “It’s actually a pretty simple spell, just old and not used a lot. It’s really cool, it was in this old Akkadian dialect, which I’m obviously not as good at as Sumerian, but Mordo helped me out, and then . . . well, y’know, I’m here now.”

Stephen stared at him, not blinking, momentarily stunned by a mixture of Peter being . . . well, _ Peter_, and the fact that he apparently knew multiple ancient languages. He shook it off, trying to look beyond what Peter wanted him to see. He was sitting in a circle made by Tony, Stephen, and Parker, his back to the wall with his eyes on the Avengers. He was good at hiding how he watched them. It looked natural. His eyes didn’t give anything away, but he made it seem like they did.

Peter looked up at him suddenly, the barest hint of vulnerability flitting over his face. “Do you guys know where my dads are? I found them here, on this Earth, but other than that . . .”

Tony wondered about that. How much was real, Strange’s concern for his ‘husband’, and Stark’s love for him, and Peter’s worry for his fathers? How much was an act? Peter’s feelings seemed the most real. He’d crossed universes to find them. But if Stark and Strange were all it seemed they were . . .

For a moment, Tony and Stephen shared a look. “You just missed them,” Tony said, pretending to be casual. “They were here . . . what, twenty minutes ago?”

Peter sat up the smallest bit. “Really? Did they say where they were going?”

“Not exactly.”

Peter frowned, and Parker (_God, that’s weird_), energetic and eager despite having been woken up in the middle of the night to come up, mirrored him. “What do you mean?”

Stephen decided to sidestep the question in favor of his own. “How long have you lived with them? Since I assume you’re not Stark or Strange’s biological son — unless Tony has something he wants to say?”

Peter, quickly covering his annoyance at them for not answering his question, said, “Dad — Tony — adopted me after the Battle of New York. I was eleven.”

Parker frowned. “What happened to Aunt May and— are they okay?” 

Peter seemed confused, looking down as he searched his thoughts. A cloud passed over his eyes. “I don’t . . . my family died in the invasion. Dad adopted me then. I don’t remember them.” His eyes cleared and he came back to himself.

Alarm bells went off in Tony’s head. “That’s . . . not normal.”

"What do you mean?" Peter seemed so honestly confused, the most honest he'd been, and not the least bit upset. 

"Peter," Stephen said quietly, "most kids remember the people who raised them until they were eleven. It's not like you were a baby. That's not—"

"It's fine," Peter said placidly, "Doc talked to me about it. He kind of eased the memories over. Kind of like going over them with paint. I guess they were painful. He said I used to have nightmares about it all the time, and he wanted it to be easier for me."

"He said that?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah."

"Did he ever mention if _ you _ wanted it? Did you ask for that?"

Peter frowned. One hand, resting on his seat, curled into a fist without his notice. "What are you talking about?"

Tony noticed his hand and moved to stand behind Stephen, his hands resting on the sorcerer's shoulders, grounding him. "We're not your enemy, kid "

Peter looked from him to Steve and the others, watching them in the background. "Sure about that?"

Steve frowned, but Stephen spoke before he could. "They're heroes in this world, Peter. They won't harm you."

"Unless they're a bunch of traitors like the others. They tried to kill my dad just for protecting the world like he was supposed to. They're not just traitors, they're_ cowards._" His face formed a half-smirk, and for a moment, he looked exactly like Strange. "Or they _ were_."

The others seemed taken aback by the sudden change in the kid's demeanor, none more so than Parker, but Stephen moved forward. "Do you know a man named Wong from your dimension?"

Peter stared Steve down for a moment before speaking. "Yeah. He's a sorcerer like my dad. He's a council member." 

"You know him well? You trust him?"

Now growing suspicious, Peter nodded. There were only five people Stark and Strange trusted completely, counting Peter. Even they were loathe to question the advice of their councilors.

Stephen spoke slowly, measuring his words and watching for Peter's reactions. "Peter, Wong contacted me earlier — your Wong, in case that wasn't clear."

Peter's hand loosened. "What did he say?" Mordo had likely spoken to him about what Peter had been planning. Maybe he had advice for him.

"He talked to me about your parents — and why he sent them here."

Peter reeled, not bothering to control his face like Strange had taught him to. “He must . . . he must have had a reason. Something forced him, or there was something dangerous that he had to get them away from.”

Stephen tilted his head. Tony tensed, unnerved by how much he resembled Strange. “Do you really think there’s anything they couldn’t face? Something so bad they would just be . . . sent away without warning?”

Peter’s back fell against the wall, leaving no way for anyone to attack him from behind. His foot was bouncing, ready to move at a moment’s notice. “Not really.” His tone was clipped. “But if you’re implying that Wong is a—”

“Traitor?” Stephen shrugged. “That’s a way to see it. Either way, that’s a way to see it. He may be a traitor to his leaders, or he may be a traitor to himself.”

Peter shook his head. “No.”

“He told me a lot. How they made people disappear when it was convenient, how they stole power wherever they could, how they did things in their conquest that people should never do.”

“_No._” Peter jumped to his feet, held back by Parker’s hand at his shoulder, though it didn’t keep him from yelling in Stephen’s face. “You don’t know _ anything_, Wong is a liar and a traitor and—”

“So you think everything they’ve done is good? Blood magic, human sacrifices, _ torture?_”

Peter shifted uncomfortably. “The ends justify the means.”

“You should take a closer look at the ends. But do you truly believe that everyone who died in your fathers’ war was evil?”

“I don’t _ know_, I don’t know all their names!” He pulled back slightly, his cheeks growing flushed as he heard his own words.

“You’re a good kid, Peter,” Tony said quietly. “I don’t think you can’t be. But I want to ask you something. Do you remember your aunt’s name?”

Peter stared at them, his eyes flitting from Tony to Parker to Stephen and back. “I don’t . . . I don’t have . . .” 

They were staring at him in a way no one ever had, hard and accusing and suspicious. A memory came over him, unbidden, of his dad removing death counts from the internet using Extremis and ordering the arrest of the people who put them up. He was fifteen, old enough that he could be told about the decisions they made and why. Just days before, he’d been in his father’s workshop, looking at the brain implants that were used to monitor citizens for violent crimes. It had never occurred to him that they could be used for anything else.

Slowly, Peter started to back away, breaking out of the circle he’d found himself in. Then, he turned on his heel and ran from the room.


	5. My Demons

_ Earth-1250, 2012 _

Stephen watched him from the shadows. Black smoke surrounded them, making it difficult for normal humans to breathe. The once-grassy ground was a darkened husk of itself. And Tony Stark stood in what was left of the battlefield, streaks of blood painted the metal that cocooned him. In his red-and-gold armor, he was taller than Stephen. In the armor, he looked like a god.

The Sorcerer Supreme couldn’t take it anymore. Something in him snapped, and he strode forward, reaching his gloved hands up and tearing the helmet from Tony’s head.

Tony jerked away, staring at him with a sliver of fear in his eyes. “What—”

Stephen gripped Tony’s hair with one hand and pulled him down, standing on his toes so he could meet Tony’s mouth. Tony half-yelped, but Stephen ignored him, pushing his tongue past the other man’s lips and raising his free hand to grip the back of Tony’s neck, holding him in place.

To his delight, Tony returned the kiss, grabbing Stephen with one arm and lifting him up. Stephen never broke the kiss as he wrapped his legs around Tony’s waist, grinning when he felt his back being pressed against a chunk of torn metal. He pulled Tony away from him by the hair, breathing hard with pupils so blown that there was only a ring of blue-green color around black. He pressed close-mouthed kisses up his neck while whispering, “Fuck me.”

Tony chuckled. “Say please.”

Stephen struck him across the face. “Don’t presume to order me, Stark. Fuck me now or I’ll tie you down and do as I please with you.”

To his annoyance, Tony chuckled at him. But Stephen didn’t have long to be angry with him as Tony finally obeyed him, the nanites sinking into his skin and leaving him naked. He tore Stephen’s clothes away, barely wasting any time prepping him before taking the sorcerer on the black ground. He didn’t bother being gentle or easing him into it, and Stephen didn’t want him to. He was perfectly willing and pliant under him, his eyes trained on Tony. It was the first time in years that Stephen could remember feeling truly _ human_. There was no risk in floating up from his body or looking at himself and seeing something he didn’t recognize.

It didn’t matter. When it was over, when Tony lay his head on the sorcerer’s chest and let Stephen play with his hair, he knew it didn’t matter. Tony Stark was a good fuck and an excellent leader and a loyal ally.

But he didn’t love him.

* * *

_Earth-199991, 2019_

Not opening his eyes as he meditated, Strange said, “Stop pacing, Tony, you’re working yourself up.”

Stark ignored his husband, eyes moving around wildly as he scanned the info coming in from the compound. “I’m fucking tired of this place. I want to go.”

“We need to get them away from the Sanctum,” Strange said quietly, looking through the world with his third eye. “And Kamar-Taj, if it can be done.” It was possible for him to switch bodies with his doppelganger, which would give him access to anywhere they needed, but it would require getting to the New York Sanctum first, at least if the relic he needed was in the same place as his world. To his surprise, the Sanctum was defended, but Stephen wasn’t there, or even Wong. Only two sorcerers who he recognized as loyal followers in his universe, and he didn’t doubt they were here too. But if they thought that merely _competent _sorcerers were enough to keep him from what he wanted—

“_Fuck!_” Stark stood in the middle of the apartment they’d brainwashed the owners of taken up residence in, eyes wide as his mouth fell open.

Strange stopped, opening his normal eyes as he stared at his husband. “What? What’s happening?” He stood up and walked over to him, taking one of Stark’s hands in his. “Darling?”

Stark squeezed his hand so tight that it would have hurt once. He looked up with dark brown eyes. “They have Peter.”

* * *

"Are you okay?"

Peter didn't react as his counterpart spoke from behind him. His spider-senses had alerted him to the presence of another person immediately, and it was the work of a moment for his third eye to determine who it was. He was sitting on the top of the building, overlooking the river that ran nearby. He wished he was in the city. The lights and noise of New York never failed to soothe him, knowing that it was _their _people, that they were safe and happy because of his family and the work they’d done.

Thinking about it, maybe he didn’t want to be in New York.

Parker sat beside him, his legs hanging over the side of the building. “They’re worried you’re gonna try to blow us up.”

Peter scoffed. “I’m _ not_.”

“I didn’t think so. That’s why I’m here.”

Peter tilted his head, looking at him. “So you’re the scout?”

Parker seemed confused. “What?”

“Y’know. You go first to see what’s happening and report back. I’ve never done it, but dad — Tony — is really good at it. He has all these things that tell him where something’s hidden or that detect life. It’s . . . I don’t know.”

“I know what the word means. But I don’t think I’m a scout. I mean, I guess? But I don’t think you’re, like, an _ enemy_.”

“Your perspective is skewed,” Peter insisted, hating how he sounded like Strange. “You look at me, but you don’t see _me_. You see yourself and think that you could never hurt anyone.” He turned away. His thoughts wouldn't leave him alone, bombarding him with memories. The rare occasion that he'd spoken to someone outside of his circle and heard the fear in their voices. Screams coming from below the floors, silenced before he could question it. Steve Rogers's blood falling in rivers from his throat and filling him with power that he'd never known, power that even now made him restless and eager to fight and kill and _use_. With anger like this pulsing through his veins, he could almost understand his father. With anger like this, he could almost tear the world apart. 

“You’re giving yourself a hard time.”

“I haven’t been giving myself _ enough _ of a hard time!” It was easier to yell at someone who looked like him than someone else, although he did feel bad when he saw the kicked-puppy look on Parker’s face. “I feel like I’ve been blind my whole life. Now I can see, but only in one color. What else am I missing?” He paused before throwing his hands up in frustration. “I don’t even know if it’s the _right _color! What if I think I’m looking at red but seeing blue?”

Parker looked at him. “. . . You lost me.”

Peter sighed, pulling his legs up and resting his head on his knees. “It’s not like I didn’t _know _people died. But . . . it always seemed like the bad was a drop in an ocean of good. That’s how it always sounded. My dads . . . they seemed so . . . so _nice_. Nice and good and desperate to help. They united our world. They pretty much _ended _hunger and crime and illness. I thought it was worth it. Worth the war and death and blood and dark magic.” He paused. “I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what to think.”

Parker was resting on his side, looking at him with confusion and sympathy. “Maybe you should just try thinking for yourself.”

Peter laughed harshly. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Parker considered it. “Have you ever watched _ Euphoria_?”

Peter frowned. “No. Why?”

“You could watch it and decide what you think.” He shrugged. “It’s as good a place to start as any.”

Peter tilted his head, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging. “Might as well.”

No sooner had they gone back inside then they heard someone shrieking in pain, and someone else — _ Tony _ — cursing downstairs. Peter moved first, his robes transforming into the Iron-Spider suit, and he ran forward, Parker close on his heels. What they saw made them stop in their tracks, though they observed it all in only a few seconds. Clint, Sam, Bucky, Steve, Natasha, and Wanda already knocked out. Thor, wandering across the room with white eyes, screaming out for his brother. Tony, trapped in a suit that couldn’t move, frozen in time. Stephen fighting Stark, the ironed-dictator giving the sorcerer a run for his money as he forced him into a chase through the entire first floor, blowing holes in the walls and flying through them. On the opposite end of the room, Strange had made a dozen copies of themselves, all of them surrounding the Hulk and holding the giant green beast with burning red bands that cut into his skin.

Peter wasted no time. He ran up the closest wall to get away from the chaos of battle and made it to the ceiling, moving on four limbs, looking more spider than human. He stopped, stock-still as he looked at the clones with his third eye. One man stood out from the others, with an aura that was black and red and oily, his eyes green and inhuman.

Peter jumped down from the roof, landing in front of his father. Strange stopped, looking at him. For once, the sorcerer allowed emotion to show in his eyes. _ Relief. _

Strange grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward. “We have to leave this place, Peter. We’ll—”

Peter didn’t think. His hand moved as fast as a snake striking, and his thumb pressed to Strange’s forehead, and black electricity moved through his third eye.

His father’s scream echoed through his ears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stephen, denying his feelings for Tony: no romo
> 
> Shorter chapter, but it had to be for the next one to line up properly. And the next one ... well. You'll see.


	6. I Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter in the endnotes

_Earth-1250, 2013 _

When Stephen saw Tony fall from the sky, something snapped inside him. 

He threw out his hands, the Eye of Agamotto glowing green from his chest. Time stopped. He saw Tony, still in the air, unconscious in the suit that was meant to protect him but now provided only dead weight. Before him on the ground was the red bitch, Wanda Maximoff, and her traitor spouse, Vision. Red energy — _ chaos magic, a horrible thing that even he dared not touch _ — shot from her fingers, intertwining with the bright yellow power of the Mind Stone in Vision’s head to form a single beam. The beam that shot Tony down.

He unfroze Wanda first. She did not have time to enjoy it before her eyes burst in their sockets, becoming dark red holes. Stephen never flinched as she fell to her knees and screeched in unholy pain. He didn’t even feel angry. Just cold.

He stood above her, knowing she couldn’t see him and reveling in the power it gave him. “How. Dare. _ You?_” He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her with both hands, ignoring her legs desperately kicking out at him. “You think you could kill such a man as Tony Stark?” Her flesh began to transform under his hold, turning to stone to sand to dust. It cracked and fell away from her, leaving her bones exposed to the harsh light of the world. “You’re _ nothing_.” Wanda weakly kicked one last time before falling still, her hands twitching at her sides. Stephen dropped her to the ground, and she fell like a broken doll he no longer cared for.

When Vision awoke from the spell, Stephen did not bother to waste his time. He gave the android (_Mistake, Tony should have thrown it out_) only a few moments to see what had happened before he ripped the Mind Stone from its head. When the thing was done, he reduced their bodies to atoms and scattered each particle to a different black hole in the infinite universe, never to be reunited.

He took Tony in his arms, cradling him like he was something sweet and precious. A portal transported them back home (_their _ home, he would make it so, he would destroy the compound himself and raise a better building that could be truly theirs and theirs alone) and he lay Tony in bed. For hours, no one else was allowed in the room. It was only Tony, face pale and cold as he prepared to meet death, and Stephen, desperately employing every healing spell he'd ever heard of to save him.

_ You must not leave me now, Stark, it's not your time. There's so much more we're meant to do together, to _ ** _be_ ** _ together, and I will not do it without you. The entire universe would not be worth losing you, Anthony. I would give it all away without a second thought, and I'll tell you this, this and more, so so much more, if you only wake _ ** _ up—_ **

By the time the sun rose, Stephen had fallen asleep from exhaustion, kneeling on the floor with his head on the bed, inches from Tony's leg. When he woke up, it was to the feeling of fingers in his hair, playful and teasing and_ alive_.

Tony smirked at him. "Was the ice king worried for me? Don't worry, Doc, I'll tell you when I'm ready to go—"

Stephen grabbed his hand and silenced him, silver-green eyes shining with unshed tears as he spoke. "I love you." He whispered the words like he was ashamed, but Tony heard him perfectly, staring in shock as Stephen spoke. "I don't want to. But I love you. When I saw you fall, I thought that my heart would rip itself from my chest if I lost you, and I would welcome it.” Stephen buried his head in the blanket, unwilling to humiliate himself by watching as Stark laughed at him, the Sorcerer Supreme baring his heart like a child who still thought that the world was good and kind.

Tony’s fingers took hold around his jaw, forcing him to raise his head and meet the other man’s eyes. Tony pulled him forward, and Stephen melted into their kiss.

They fit together perfectly, Stephen’s hand curling at the back of Tony’s neck as their foreheads pressed together. Tony shivered. “Stephen . . .” Outside, the world turned and blood was spilled, and none of it mattered to them.

* * *

_Earth-199991, 2019_

Peter stared at the screen, flanked by Tony and Parker on one side and Strange on the other. In the cells below ground, Natasha was questioning Strange. Or rather, she was attempting to question him. Strange merely meditated with his eyes closed and did not deign to speak no matter how she threatened, tempted, urged, sympathized, or manipulated. Peter knew that nothing she did would work. Not only did Strange knew all her tricks and more that she would never think to employ, but he was the Sorcerer Supreme, and had been tortured by things far greater than her. He could not be broken. 

Laying on a table with an ice pack to his head, Clint grumbled, “Don’t know what the point of all this is.”

“He knows where Stark is,” Stephen said almost absently. “He has to. Either one is too dangerous to have running lose. We need them contained.”

“Stark will show himself,” Wanda said, twisting a ring around her finger while staring at the screen. “We don’t need Strange for that. We should kill him now and not give him a chance to escape.”

Peter whipped around to stare at her, his eyes unable to decide if they wanted to widen or narrow. “Excuse me?”

Tony set a hand on his arm, stilling him. “We haven’t decided what we’re going to do yet.”

“That just means you don’t want me to know what you’re going to do.” He straightened his spine and pushed Tony’s hand away. “I won’t let you kill him.”

“I’m not sure we could,” Stephen said, not quite looking at any of them. “He’s not entirely human anymore. In my experience, things like that can only be destroyed with complex rituals, most of which are difficult, power-draining, time-consuming, or outright banned. He’d seen it coming from a mile away. And Vishanti only know what a man like that can do when desperate.”

“He’s not desperate _ now?_” Tony asked, a hint of laughter covering up his nerves.

Stephen looked from the screen to Tony and moved on. “It would be easier to contain him.” He paused and added a shrug. “If I can find something for it.”

Peter nodded sharply. “Do that.” He met the stares of the Avengers with his own dark eyes. 

Before anyone could speak, the door opened, allowing Natasha to join them with an irritated look. “He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even _ move_, I kept thinking I should check if he was breathing.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” Steve asked, leaning against a wall with the same serious look he always had. “Wait for Stark to attack and get the upper hand? For all we know, Strange being here is part of some elaborate plan. We need more to work with?”

Peter looked up suddenly. “I’ll do it.” Everyone looked at him. “I’ll . . . question him. He’ll respond to me.”

“Not sure that’s a good idea, kid,” Tony said, sounding serious. “He could—”

“What?” Peter asked, almost taunting. “Hurt me? He’s my dad. He would never.”

“You know him that well?” Natasha’s voice was curious. Despite the way he now questioned everything he’d been told, Peter was still wary of her and knew not to give away more than he could afford.

“_Yes._” Peter was more decisive than his counterpart, more used to getting what he wanted and being aggressive when he felt the need, and it showed. 

Stephen watched him. The teen had Stark’s eyes, but he couldn’t help but see something of Strange in them. “They’ll watch you from here. I’ll stand outside the door in case you need help.”

Peter knew he wouldn’t, but he didn’t say anything. He only nodded and accepted Parker’s supportive shoulder-pat with one of his own before following Stephen to the elevator. As they were lowered into the Earth, Peter remembered the black pool he’d lain in before coming to this universe. Was it only a day ago? It seemed like more. His eyes drifted, staring into nothing as he scratched his arm, remembering how strange his own skin had been to him when he returned to the world, how the very notion of inhabiting a body had seemed foreign.

“You can leave any time you wish,” Stephen said quietly, making Peter snap back into reality and remember where he was. “If he won’t speak or you think he’s being manipulative or threatening or just turning questions around on you, you can leave, and I’ll be there.”

Peter nodded, his expression static in spite of the weight that Stephen had lifted off his shoulders. The elevator opened, and they stepped into the first room, designed to appear windowless and doorless although they knew that was not the case. Peter only looked back once as he stood before the wall. Stephen nodded his encouragement, and Peter breathed before pressing his hand on the door and feeling it move. 

Once he was through, the door closed again. The room he found himself in was completely white with nothing to give the eyes reprieve from the bright, stark, _ painful _color. In the center was a space barely large enough for a bed and surrounded by a circular plane of glass more than four inches thick. There, the Sorcerer Supreme sat in his black-and-red robes, legs crossed underneath him. He was so still that even his chest didn’t move as he breathed — _ if _he breathed.

Peter stood staring at him for so long that he started to wonder what he should say. Then, slowly, like a waking cat, Strange opened his eyes. Peter didn’t speak, pinned in place by those sharp, inhuman green-and-silver eyes. Then— “Have you practiced your languages today? You do Xhosa and Mandarin on Fridays, correct?”

Peter stared at him before nodding, both too fast and too slow. “Yes. I mean, yes, today is Xhosa and Mandarin, but no, I haven’t . . . I haven’t practiced.”

Strange tilted his head and hummed. “I suppose we all have to take breaks every now and then. Don’t make a habit of it, language is an easy skill to lose.” He closed his eyes and returned to his meditation.

For a moment, Peter only stared. When he spoke, it was a struggle to make the words leave his throat. “We need to know where Dad is. Not you dad, other dad.”

Strange half-opened one eye. “You’re not good at this. I suppose that's my fault. In my defense, I never meant for this to be your job. I figured you’d have people like that. Even I don’t do jobs like this most of the time. It’s beneath me.”

“What if . . .” Peter thought. “They’ll hurt me if you don’t tell me. Wanda, I know she wants to.” Wanda and Steve were the Avengers Strange had always hated most, and it seemed logical to paint them as the villains.

Even so, he didn’t buy it. If anything Strange seemed amused. “You’re _ really _ not good at this.” He uncrossed his legs, making himself look casual. “You’re better at fighting. Especially considering you’ve never been in a _ real _fight before. Earlier, what you did with your hand?” He looked at his son with pride. “It was a good move. I was impressed, once I stopped screaming.”

“Stop,” Peter grit out. “You can’t . . . I don’t feel bad about that.”

Strange clicked his tongue. “Peter. We shouldn’t lie to each other. Remember, I taught you to lie, so I know perfectly well that you’re not very good at it.”

“I’m fine! It’s . . .”

Strange smiled. “Me?”

Peter didn’t respond.

Strange spread one leg out, keeping the other crossed and resting his arm and head on it. “Do you know what I’ve been thinking of since then?”

After a moment, Peter shook his head.

“There was a man with information we needed. I don’t think you ever met him. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that this man had a daughter, and, being a parent myself—” Peter repressed a flinch, “—I understand perfectly how that can make people act against their own best interests. Like when Anthony and I came to help you earlier when it made things more difficult for us.” He closed his eyes to spare Peter the indignity of having Strange watch as he squirmed. “Not the point. The point is that, though this man could likely be broken through days or weeks of torture, there was a much faster and easier way to go about it.”

Peter stared at his father, desperately wanting to run and knowing he couldn’t. 

Nodding, Strange continued. “I didn’t kill the girl if that’s what you think. I try to avoid harming innocents, although it has often been inevitable. But I might have. I told the man as much. I found his daughter, held her frozen in front of him, and said that if he didn’t tell us what we needed, then I would have her arms and legs amputated so she could not fight back whilst she was gang-raped in front of him.” He nodded sympathetically when he saw Peter turn pale and choke on nothing. “Does that disgust you? Scare you?”

Peter nodded, unable to speak.

Strange closed his eyes. “I’m glad. Honestly, it disgusts _me _and I wouldn’t even have been the one doing it. Rape is punishable by death, as you know, there were several people I could have forced to do it as a pretext for their execution. But honestly, I had always hoped that by the time we passed on control to you, such measures would no longer be necessary. Tony has often worried that we made you into a monster. Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he said at Peter’s shocked and hurt face. “You know how he worries. But he thought it might happen. And honestly, I didn’t want that. I wanted you to be the best possible version of yourself. Someone strong but compassionate, who would do what was necessary _only _when necessary. I want you to be so much better than us.”

Peter turned away, shutting his eyes. He wanted to run, to get Stephen so he didn’t have to stand there and listen anymore. 

“If it helps, we didn’t have to go through with it in the end. He sang quickly when I threatened that. But then, what did I always say?”

Peter’s hand curled into a fist. He hated that he knew the answer. “Never make threats that you aren’t willing to carry through.”

Strange nodded, pleased. “Don’t forget that. I imagine it’s a lesson you’ll be needing soon.”

Peter turned on his heel, staring. “What?” He got as close to the glass as he could without touching it. “What do you mean by that?”

But Strange didn’t respond. He crossed his legs and returned to his meditation. Peter tried for several minutes to get him to speak before giving up.

* * *

“Your dad is a piece of work,” Stephen said when Peter returned, looking as disgusted as Peter felt. In the room, Strange had looked as serene as ever, completely unbothered by what he said. Like it never happened.

Peter took his place beside him, standing silent. He was doing his best to put on a brave face, and it might have worked if not for how pale and tired he looked and how worried Stephen already was for him.

“You’re not them, Peter,” Stephen said quietly.

Peter looked at him. “What?”

“You’re more than their son. You don’t even have to be that if you don’t want to be.”

Peter stared at the elevator floor. “If I’m not their son . . . what am I?”

Before Stephen even had a chance to answer, the lights in the elevator turned red, and alarms started blaring through the building. 

Peter looked at him. “You don’t think . . .”

Stephen, refusing to waste time, opened a portal into the field outside. There, Stark hovered in the air, arms spread.

“Peter,” Stark called out. They could hear the smirk in his voice. “Daddy’s home.”

Behind them came the sound of cracking stone. 

They whipped around. Stephen shouted, “_No!_” The compound started to collapse in on itself, crumbling before their eyes as the sound of stone against stone and metal against metal filled the air. “_Tony!_” Stephen ran forward, but was stopped in his tracks by a metal chain wrapping around each of his wrists, yanking him back. “Oh no, you don’t!” Stark shouted, flying backward and pulling Stephen along.

At least, until Peter got involved. “Stop!” He shot webs at his father, pulling him down to Earth with a strength that could lift a dozen elephant. “_Dad!_”

Tony struggled between Peter’s grasp on him and his own hold of Stephen. “Pete, stop that this instant!”

“No!”

“Oh, you are such a _ teen!_”

Behind them, figures started to emerge from the pile of destruction, chief among them Strange, looking as calm as ever in his untouched robes. Nearby, Vision burst out with Wanda in his arms and Thor close behind. Strange watched with narrowed eyes as a look passed between them. On the field, Stephen, Peter, and Stark were moving ever closer, now separated by no more than a foot. Red magic flickered at Wanda’s hands at the same time as Thor’s eyes started to glow and lightning rumbled above.

Strange moved at the same time they did. From the trifecta erupted a beam of energy made of chaos magic, lightning, and the power of the Mind Stone. Strange’s hands shot forward, jerking them all up. They moved against their will, changing their aim. But still the beam moved forward, only it was wrong now, it wasn't moving towards Stark but to _Peter_, and no, no, _ no, what had he done, oh no, oh gods, not his son— _

Stark dove forward, grabbing hold of Peter’s web and hurtling him into the air, out of the way as the beam made contact—

It took less than a second. Stark fell to the ground and tried once to move his head before giving up and staying still.

Strange stared, inhuman eyes widening, trying to make sense of what he saw. “No,” he whispered. Then, shouting, “_No!_” He ran forward, and around him, the energy of the universe swelled and crackled, throwing everyone but himself and his husband back and holding them still, unable to move as they watched what happened.

Strange fell to the ground beside Stark, taking him in his arms and struggling to remove the helmet. Stark, dazed, rolled his head and smiled up at him. “Hey . . .”

Strange whimpered, a cold, broken sound that shook him to the core. “Tony . . .” Desperate, he yanked one of his gloves off, revealing a hand that was burnt black with shots of neon purple running up by his wrists. His hands moved over Stark’s body as the nanites sank into his skin, looking for an injury he knew he wouldn’t find. “I can’t . . . Tony, it’s not working . . . Anthony, tell me what to do, I don’t know how—”

Stark took Strange’s hand in his and lifted both to his husband’s cheek, gently cradling it with his callused skin. “It’s okay . . . it’s okay . . .” His eyes shut and didn’t open.

Strange stared at him, shaking his head. “No . . . no, no, _ no _ . . .” His sister's death had not broken him. His parents' abandonment hadn't broken him. The loss of his hands, Dormammu killing him over and over again, deals made with demons and dark things hadn't broken him. But losing Tony . . .

Suddenly Strange lifted his head, and from his face, three eyes glowed green. “_AGAMOTTO!_” His voice was deep and ancient and inhuman, coming from something beyond himself. “_CHILD OF OSHTUR! ANCIENT ONE! ALL-SEEING! LIGHT OF TRUTH! ANSWER ME!_”

_ No! _ Stephen tried to scream, but he could not move. He was as trapped as the others, forced to watch as Strange tampered with things far beyond what he ever should. 

Above them, the sky shook, and light shone above them, golden and beautiful and terrifying. Something like a man looked down, his body in constant flux, one moment human, the next lion, the next a bug, the next formless entirely. When he spoke, his mouth did not move. The words came from within him and all around them at the same time. “_WHAT DO YOU WANT._”

“These people have killed my husband! Return him to me!”

Something like a growl erupted from the omnipotent being. “_YOU ARE NOT OF THIS UNIVERSE. IF YOU WERE, I WOULD TELL YOU THE SAME THING THAT I WILL NOW. I WILL DO NOTHING FOR HIM._”

Stunned, Strange could only stare. “No . . .”

“_HE IS NOT CHOSEN OF THE VISHANTI. BOTH OF YOU HAVE PERVERTED THE LAWS OF THE UNIVERSE FOR YOUR OWN GAIN. IT IS RIGHT THAT HE DIES._”

Strange shook his head. Tears spilled from his eyes and left scars on his cheeks. “Please . . . there has to be a way.”

“_NO. THE MAN HAS DIED. HE SHALL REMAIN DEAD. THIS IS HOW IT WILL BE._”

Strange choked on his sob. “No . . .”

“_SILENCE—” _

_ “NOOOOO!_” Strange’s scream filled the air, forming soundwaves that pulsed through them, through even Agamotto himself.

The god-like being screamed in pain, a horrible, high-pitched sound that could be created by nothing of Earth. He fled, disappearing back into the sky as darkness returned and the stars looked down on them once more.

Strange’s scream turned into a sob, and he broke, collapsing onto the ground and burying his face in Stark’s chest as his arms tightened around his husband’s corpse. Then his hold on the Avengers evaporated, releasing them like marionettes cut from their strings, and he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of rape and torture, descriptions of murder/death/gore
> 
> ||
> 
> ... Bet you didn't see that coming


	7. Lose Your Soul

_ Earth-1250, 2015 _

Peter ducked down to look at the tank full of small, black-and-gold spiders, entranced as they spun their silk webs. One of them seemed to be staring at him with tiny red eyes. Peter traced its movement with a single-minded fascination whilst Tony spoke to the former-CEO of Oscorp in the background. Peter knew that he should be listening. He was supposed to be learning about the ins-and-outs that came with ruling the world, including the control of corporations they’d taken over. But Peter wasn’t concerned with that at all anymore. He watched with glassy brown eyes as one of the spiders, not even as large as the tip of his pinky, crawled over his hand. The inky blackness of its exoskeleton seemed so strange against his creamy skin—

“Ow!” Peter flinched and pulled his hand back, cradling it against his chest as he shook his head in confusion. What happened? Why had he zoned out like that? He held his hand up to his mouth and absently sucked on the rapidly-swelling skin, trying to soothe the pain.

“Peter?” Tony ran over to him, pulling Peter back by the shoulders and looking him up and down. “What happened?”

Peter, still feeling out of it, held up his hand. “One of the spiders bit me.” The affected area was bright pink now, even worse than Peter’s face when Tony had embarrassed him at an important dinner the week before.

Tony quickly took his hand and held it up to the light, his eyes sharpening as he looked. “Osborn, what the fuck? One of your science experiments just bit my kid!”

“I am _ so _ sorry, sir,” Osborn said, hiding his annoyance at having to bow and scrape to Tony behind a mask of _ very _ real terror. “There’s no way it should be possible for any of the specimens to even be out of their containers—”

“I don’t care if it _ shouldn’t _ be possible,” Tony snapped. “It _ happened! _ Get those things caged up _ now _ or I’ll have them destroyed and remove you from Oscorp altogether.” Without waiting for a response, Tony left the room with Peter at his side, tucked under Tony’s arm while his dad repeatedly asked if he was okay.

Within a few minutes, Peter grew tired of his father’s worry. He didn’t feel different at all. Even his hand hadn’t hurt past the initial bite. Still, he went to bed early at Tony’s urging, not even worrying about Stephen’s knowing look (that was practically just what his face looked like by that point) as he sank into sleep.

The next day, he was not conscious enough to realize his mistake. Peter tossed and turned in bed, sweat pouring from his body as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He could _feel _his bones and muscles tearing themselves apart inside them, felt his nerves firing and misfiring and _changing_. He thought he might have vomited a few times, but it didn’t register properly as venomous pain would wrack his body every few moments, making him forget what had happened before. He could not even cry or whimper without feeling the effects.

Once, when he was awake enough to hear, he could make out his father yelling at someone from close by. “You _knew _this would happen! You and that _fucking eye! _ I should have never trusted you, you let this happen to _ Peter_, of all people—”

A harsh _smack _sounded from nearby and Peter rolled over in bed without thinking. “Do not raise your voice at me, Tony. I knew it would happen, yes. And it was what was _meant _to happen. Everything else for Peter . . . it hinges on this. When he awakes, he’ll be better than he was before.”

“_Prove it! Prove it, you lying—_”

The pain returned, and he was in the darkness again.

The next time he could feel something that was not wrenching, bleeding pain or the sliminess of vomit on his tongue, it was a hand petting his hair as someone softly cooed at him from above. “It’s alright, Pete. You’re going to be alright. I’m sorry I let this happen. Sorry I made it happen. But Peter . . .” The voice sighed. “My son. My dear, brave boy. You have no idea. You will go on long after I am gone.”

Peter tried to speak, but his throat wouldn’t work and his mind couldn’t form the right words. Giving up, he relaxed into the touch as best before passing out once more.

One day passed, then two, then three. _ Three . . . _ Peter thought in his delirium. _ Three, three eyes, three colors, three gods, three of us, three . . . _When he woke again, his third eye opened, and the world was new.

* * *

_Earth-199991, 2019_

Peter stared at the ground and remembered.

_ He was fourteen and sitting in the courtyard of Kamar-Taj. Strange sat before him in stripped-down blue robes instead of his usual black-and-red. He was teaching Peter how to lie. Even after everything that had happened, Peter did not understand the point of such lessons. He questioned his new father constantly, but Strange was patient and had an answer for everything. “There are many who will lie to you and who you will need to lie to. Such things are unpleasant necessities of our work, but they are necessities. Start by watching the eys. Everything comes through in a person’s eyes.” _

_ “Even mine?” Peter asked, young and curious and eager to please. _

_ Strange smiled. “Especially yours. The only person I know with eyes more expressive than yours is your father. That why he wears sunglasses so often. They hide it.” _

_ “Do they hide it from you?” _

_ “No one can hide from me. Or you, soon enough. Now come.” Strange schooled his own face, becoming a copy of himself. “Try to hide.” _

Those last words echoed through his mind, haunting him. _ Try to hide. _ He wasn’t meant to hide. He was the son of conquerers, Spider-Man, a sorcerer. On Earth-1250 they called him _golden boy. Heir to the world. Prince_, even. He was supposed to be more than this. He thought that when the time came for him to be more, he would know what to do.

Parker sat beside his shell-shocked counterpart, putting a hand on his shoulder to try and comfort him. “Are you okay?”

Peter didn’t respond. His eyes didn’t see Parker or the dark ground in front of him. Instead, he saw his father’s body, still warm and seeming untouched. He heard Strange’s screams, his sobs, watched him guard his husband’s corpse like an animal defending its wounded mate. A god told them that nothing could help him, that it was done and it was his fault, Stark had gotten in the way because of him, had died because of him, his fault, his fault, _ his own worst fault— _

Parker tried a few more times before leaving him to mourn. Peter could not even think to mourn. No matter how many times the image repeated itself, it did not seem real. His father could not be dead. Tony Stark, Supreme Ruler of Earth, Iron Man, Earth’s Defender, could not be gone. The man who had taken him in and made him his son, who loved him and taught him and raised him to manhood, could not be gone. He did not accept it. He _ could not _ accept it. 

He heard his father's voice as though he were standing behind him, brown eyes alight with secrets and something else, something pulsing and magnetic and _ alive_. “So long as evil and careless people control the world, there can be no change. Those who try to affect the world through legal pathways will find their work to be meaningless against a cruel world. The only real way to fix this world is to tear it down and build a better one.”

Peter thought he might like to tear the world down. He could do it. He had the strength, the power, the purpose. Was this his purpose? He didn’t know.

After a while, the others left, gathering to search the ruins of the compound. Peter moved enough to look at them. _ Torn down as it should be. _ He stared for a long time. Then he stood and walked.

* * *

Peter walked for hours. He walked until the sun was coming up, then he kept walking. He walked until he made it to New York City, and then he didn’t stop. In a way, the city was his home more than the palace that stood over the compound had ever been. It knew him and understood him, and he it.

He was perched on the roof of a building, long after the sun had gone down once more, when he sensed him. Though he knew who it was, he could not repress a shudder. The feeling had changed, becoming both electric and slimy at the same time, and it made him uneasy. But he couldn’t hide. No matter how well he controlled his eyes, he could never hide from his father. 

Peter stood and turned to face him.

Strange seemed both the same and completely different. He wore the same impeccable black-and-red robes. His hands were gloved and clasped together, resting against his stomach. But he seemed . . . paler, somehow. Paler, with eyes that were somehow even more of a vivid, intense green than before. Eyes that hid nothing and everything. Funny trick, that.

They stared at each other from across the roof. Peter unwilling remembered what Stephen had said after he’d spoken to Strange the last time. _ “You’re more than their son. You don’t even have to be that if you don’t want to be.” _If he was not his fathers' son, then who was he?

Strange’s eyes seemed to glow. There was only a trace of silver in them now. Peter stared at those eyes and wondered if his father might kill him. He was a controlled man, but a vengeful one, even Peter knew that. He was more ruled by his emotions than he liked to let on. He might kill Peter for Stark, might blame for his death by drawing them there, by being the reason Stark had gotten in the way of that blast. He might, and Peter did not think he would be wrong.

He steadied himself, straightening his back and steeling his spine. He would not scream or beg or cry. He was a Stark, and Stark men were made of iron. His eyes would show nothing, not even strength or forgiveness. Just steel. 

They watched each other for a long time, neither moving. Then, slowly, Strange spread his arms and waited. 

Peter couldn’t help it. He choked on a sob before breaking and running forth, straight into his father’s arms. Strange huffed when Peter collided into him, but quickly recovered and wrapped his arms around the teen, tucking Peter’s head under his chin and letting him sob into his chest.

“_They killed him_,” Peter managed to say, his vision turning blurry as tears poured from his eyes. “_They killed him._”

Strange nodded once before kissing his hair. “I know.” His eyes glowed in the darkness. “I’ll fix it.”


	8. Shrike

_ Earth-1250, 2017 _

Peter ran after Tony. “But, _ dad—_”

“For the last time, Peter, _ no_. You’re too young.”

Peter pouted, jumping around the room to avoid running into any of the Iron Legionnaires that were walking through the building, and ended up running along the ceiling. He stopped when his head was in front of his dad, who was looking at him with exasperation. “You can’t keep doing that. You’re getting the ceilings dirty.” He walked past Peter. “And I’ve said it before, you’re too young.”

“I could be a hero!” Peter’s arms moved wildly as he talked, making it difficult to keep his balance when gravity was already against him. “I have these cool spider powers, and my eyes are like, really good, _ and_, I made these webs!” To demonstrate, he shot at an Iron Man statue, webbing the face. “See! I could help so much!”

“You _ do _help,” Tony said, sending an order to one of the cleaning machines to remove the webs. “Those little courts you hold in the city, where you talk to people and figure out their problems? That’s great. It helps us know what we can do better.”

“Improving the lives of our people is far more important than fighting,” Stephen said quietly out of nowhere from behind him. The room was suddenly empty, the soldiers gone as the glass doors shut. Tony half-expected ominous music to play.

Peter jumped down from the ceiling and ran over to the sorcerer. “Dad! Other-dad won’t let me fight!”

Stephen paused. “I didn’t know he could make decisions that good without me.”

Tony scoffed. “Rude.”

Peter huffed, stamping his foot. “I’m not a child! I can fight if I want!”

Stephen stared at him, arching a brow. “You _ are _ a child, and no you cannot.” After a moment, he added, “Don’t pout, Peter, it’s undignified.”

“I should be involved in these things!” Peter insisted, unwilling to let the issue lie. “If I’m going to be a leader one day, I need to know how to do these things! I’ve been doing magic for _ years_, I’m more advanced than some Masters, and I’ve had these powers since I was fourteen! I’ll never be more ready than I am now!”

“That’s definitely not true,” Tony said, but Stephen had paused, considering.

“You won’t fight,” he said. “At the moment, our enemies are small, almost powerless countries that need to be conquered, and one day I shall like for them to see you as a purely benevolent force. That will be more difficult if you’re killing them now.” When Peter started to protest, he added, “_But_, there is an envoy of Kree arriving in two days. You can meet them with us. If it’s too early to have you on a literal battlefield, then you may start on the political one.”

Peter grinned. It was not what he wanted, but it was a start. He had been taking lessons in politics from Pepper for two years, and it was nice to finally have a chance to do _ something _ useful. He hugged Stephen and accepted Tony’s affectionate hear-mussing before running from the room, victorious.

The next day, Peter was allowed to sit in on a council meeting, the first of many that he would see. His uncle Rhodey patted his shoulder encouragingly when Peter sat beside him. Pepper began by briefing them as she always did. “The taskforce of sorcerers we sent out last Monday believe we can have all of Eastern Europe within a week if we fight bloodily and two months if we appeal to diplomacy and start sending aid to appeal to the lower classes there.”

Tony nodded while looking at her report before passing it to Stephen. The Sorcerer Supreme only glanced at it before saying, “Peacefully, then. It’s always annoying to rule a land that you’ve half-destroyed.”

Pepper scratched it off a list and moved on. Peter wondered if he should be taking notes.

Australia wanted extra foot soldiers to maintain peace while people were receiving PsycheImplants. 

“See how many they can field amongst themselves and we’ll send more when they have.”

_ Scratch. _

More vaccinations were sorely needed along the Nile. 

“Tell Christine to have them manufactured starting today and we’ll have them portalled over.”

_ Scratch. _

There were threats of uprisings in Canada and South America. 

“Increase surveillance and Iron Bots, but loosen restrictions. People should be able to live their lives as before, but without the risks of crime or poverty so that they’ll adjust and see reason. If there are still revolts, we’ll make an example of them.”

_ Scratch. _

The North Korean Council had requested Tony and Stephen return for a parade held in their honor. 

“Of course.”

_ Scratch. _

New leaders still hadn’t been chosen in all of China. 

“If the people haven’t chosen within two weeks, we’ll make our own choice.”

_ Scratch. _

All of this was handled in minutes before they moved on to the important stuff. Pepper finally sat down and leaned over to Tony. “The Kree will arrive for negotiations tomorrow. I’ve been informed of their . . . expectations.”

Tony nodded. “How bad is it?”

Pepper sighed, looking down. “Doable. They’re not as demanding as Loki was, but they’re very traditionalist. They want things done a certain way.”

“We have sorcerers who can prepare,” Mordo said. Though everyone else in the room wore some combination of black, red, and gold, he remained in his green robes, though now a mandala-arc-reactor pin on the chest marked him as a councilor and advisor. “The novices and a few apprentices can handle it.”

“Thank you, Mordo, but that isn’t what I meant.”

Tony frowned, using Extremis to quickly read the report. He huffed. “They want hostages.”

Pepper nodded. “I’m given to understand it’s standard procedure. They’ll send a hostage and we’ll send one of our own to ensure good behavior on both sides. I hate the risk, but there’s no getting around it.”

Stephen sat back in his chair, face unnaturally still before he spoke. “Who should we send?”

“No one on the council,” Wong said first. “We need to all be here to make decisions. A loss of any one would be disastrous.”

“Well, we can’t send a Minister,” Pepper said, referring to the leaders of conquered countries, some of whom had been in power before, most of whom were raised up to their position when Stephen and Tony arrived. “None of them are important enough to be recognized by the Kree as a formal hostage, they’re all replaceable.”

Stephen sat forward when his hands palms-together in front of him. “A sorcerer, maybe? A high-ranking legionnaire?”

Tony shook his head. “We have intelligence suggesting the Kree hostage is a member of their Starforce, a well-known and loved military hero. We have to match that—”

“Pick me,” Peter said, speaking for the first time. His voice cracked as everyone turned to stare at him, but he swallowed past the weight of his throat and spoke. “I’ll go.”

Peter had never seen Tony’s look at him like that. He hoped he never would again. “_No._”

“But—”

“_No! _ You’ll stay here and meet with the Kree and study and train and keep your head down.”

“I—”

“Kid,” Rhodey said gently, glancing between him and Tony. “Stand down, you’re not gonna win this one.”

“No, I’ve thought about it!”

“You have not,” Tony said waspishly. 

Peter flinched, but persisted. “I did! It makes the most sense! It will show trust because you wouldn’t hand me over if you thought they would really do anything; strength, because you wouldn’t dare piss you off so much and you know it; respect, since what is there that you care about more? And besides, even if something happened . . . strategically, it’s not a loss."

“Peter,” Stephen said quietly, not quite looking at any of them, “there could be no greater loss.”

Peter saw his father's weakness and moved in. “You know I’m right or you’d have a better argument. It’s a good idea. No one else is as well-known. There’s no one you would avenge more or harder. The Kree are fierce, not stupid. If I go, I’ll be safe. And I want to go.”

Tony and Stephen stared Peter down. He didn’t flinch. 

“Leave,” Stephen said suddenly. “All of you. Tony and I wish to discuss this privately.” An unspoken spell silenced their protests. None had a choice other than to obey. Peter gave his dads one last, stubborn look before following Rhodey and Pepper out.

Stephen and Tony looked at each other without speaking. The Sorcerer Supreme was massaging one hand, then another. The light of Extremis had died down from Tony’s eyes, and he looked at his husband clearly.

Tony spoke first. “He thinks like a leader.”

Stephen considered not responding and decided against it. “It’s what we taught him to do. To _ be_.”

Tony laughed harshly. “You think I don’t know that. Fuck, Doc. He’s just a kid. He’s _ barely _sixteen.”

“I know.”

Tony rose suddenly, walking around the room. He wished there were windows. He could do with some sunlight. Something _ good_. He spoke while staring at a wall. “Were we right to make him into this? Did we do the right thing?”

Stephen sighed and stood, drawing Tony into his arms. “Of course we did, Tony.” The silver in his eyes was strong that day, and it seemed to shine as he thought of Peter. “This is how it’s meant to be.”

* * *

_Earth-199991, 2019 _

Peter stared up at the mountain. “Where are we?”

Strange looked around. They stood in a desert of purple sand, shallow pools of water, and dim pink light. But there was snow on the mountain, and that was where they must go. “Vormir. A ‘dominion of death at the very center of celestial existence’. We may find what we need here.” He started forward, his son close behind.

After a minute, Peter asked, “Do we have the walk the whole way?”

“Yes.”

Five minutes: “This _ sucks_.”

By the time they reached the top half of the mountain, Peter was starting to feel the strain on his lungs. Strange was unaffected. “So what’s here?” Peter asked as flurries of snow landed in his hair. “What are we looking for?”

Suddenly, his senses screamed at him, propelling Peter to leap back and have his suit on and hands raised in seconds. Strange stepped back, standing in front of his son. Together, they faced the reaper-like creature that stood before them, a man with a completely red face and torn black robes. 

“Sorcerer Supreme of another world.” The man, if he could be called that, looked at Peter. “Future ruler of a vast empire. I know what you seek.”

Strange seemed unaffected by his presence. “Red Skull. I suppose you’re to be our guide?”

“Correct.” His voice was deep and gravely, the way Peter thought a corpse might speak. He wanted to get what they needed and leave, away from this strange place and strange guide and strange universe.

Strange smiled. “Well, then. Guide away.”

Red Skull turned and did just that, leading them up to the dark stone temple at the apex of the mountain. Strange slid a gloved hand along ancient carvings, wishing there was time to examine them. 

Water fell down the cliff face, leading Peter’s eyes towards the huge circular symbols at the bottom. Red Skull spoke as he looked. “The Soul Stone lies before you — as does what you fear.”

“I don’t fear much,” Strange said calmly.

“I know.” Red Skull’s eyes were sunken pits, for too knowing for Strange’s liking. It did not matter. He was the only one who could tell them how to get the stone, and the Infinity Stones could control the universe. If he was right, only a few specific ones would be needed to perform a resurrection. 

His eyes softened slightly as he thought of his husband. _ Soon. _ “Tell me what to do.”

“In order to take the stone, a sacrifice is required.”

Strange couldn’t resist a smirk. “I’ve performed sacrifices before. Anyone specific?”

Red Skull stared long and deep at him. “In order to hold the Soul Stone, you much lose that which you love. A soul for a soul.”

The smile fell from Strange’s face as his veins turned to ice. Underneath the gloves, his hands were suddenly pained and very, very cold. 

Peter brought his shoulders up. “I’ll do it. If you have the stones, then you can just bring me back with dad. It’ll be fine. I’m not scared.” Strange didn’t respond, only staring at him. “Dad, do you hear me? _ I’m not scared. _ It’ll be okay.”

“I’m afraid it’s not so,” Red Skull said, floating over the ground. “The exchange is everlasting and irreversible. If you are to die for the stone, then you will never be brought back, and your soul will remain in this universe.”

Strange shook his head, looking away from them. He steadied himself against a pillar, and his third eye forced him to acknowledge the words his fingers traced. _ Soul. Infinity. Equinox. Sacrifice. Final. Eternal. Death. _He saw it so clearly: Tony, alive and well at his side, and their son dead on the cold stone with blood pouring from his head.

“I won’t do it,” he whispered. Then, shouting, “_I won’t do it!_” Wrenching himself away from the pillar, Strange grabbed Peter’s hand and started pulling him away from the edge.

“What? Dad?” Peter looked so lost and hopelessly, terribly _ young _ as he stared up at his only remaining father.

“There are other ways.” He set foot upon the trail leading down the mountain before stopping, a new idea taking hold in his mind. “Other spells. Other _ sacrifices_.” He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evil Stephen Strange: still a better father than Thanos


	9. Ready Aim Fire

_ Earth-1250, 2017 _

Peter ducked to avoid the staff’s strike, backflipping until he was out of range. 

Stephen shook his head. “You’re fast and your instincts are good, but you’re too reactive. You need to strike first.” He used the staff to gesture to his head. “Come, hit me.”

“I don’t want to hit you!” Peter protested. “I could hurt you!”

Stephen smirked. “Oh look, baby Peter doesn’t want to hit his dad. If my father still drew breath, I would have no such problem.”

Peter was so surprised that he almost didn’t avoid the swipe at his legs. “What happened to your dad?”

Stephen shrugged, grinning when Peter attempted (and failed) to hit him. “Some illness. I don’t recall.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “That’s not true. You remember _ everything_.”

“Everything of importance. I have known so many years now that to remember everything I’ve seen would be impossible, even for me.” 

"C'mon dad, you're not_ that _ old."

Stephen frowned for a moment before deciding to let it slide. "Do not forget that I hold the Eye of Agamotto, as you will when you’re Sorcerer Supreme. I've lived many lives unknown to others.”

Peter almost didn’t hear the last part of what his father said, too busy focusing on what had come before it. “I can’t be Sorcerer Supreme. That’s you. There can’t be two.”

“I’m well aware. But I will not always be around, and it will fall to you to continue our family’s legacy.”

Peter stopped, frozen in the middle of Kamar-Taj’s courtyard. “What?”

Stephen’s eyes softened. “I am not immortal, Peter. Eventually, I will die and join the Ancient Ones and Sorcerers Supreme who came before me in protecting the universe alongside the Vishanti.”

“But . . .” What could he say? _ Don’t leave me. I don’t want you to die. _ He was not a child who thought his parents infallible. He did not need to be comforted or rocked to sleep or sung lullabies.

But somehow, it never occurred to him that Stephen — a Master of the Mystic Arts, Sorcerer Supreme, and the Supreme Ruler of Earth — could ever leave him.

Stephen put his staff aside and stepped forward, holding his arms open. “Come here.”

Peter only hesitated a moment before giving in and hugging his father, feeling Stephen’s strong arms wrap around him. “Oh, Peter. My dear, brave boy. This is not a weight I would place on you if I could help it.” He kissed the top of his son’s hair. “I will die. But not today.”

* * *

_Earth-199991, 2019 _

“What did Doctor Strange say?”

Tony looked over at the teen who was walking down Bleecker Street with him. “Seemed kind of paranoid that the Sanctum was next. Not that I blame him. But he still thinks it’s safer if we’re with him.”

Parker nodded solemnly. After the destruction of the compound, most of the day had been spent making sure everyone was okay and deciding what to do next. For the moment, everyone was in hiding, not wanting to admit that they were terrified of the grieving sorcerer’s wrath but not able to avoid it either. Stephen had returned to the Sanctum and sent most of the dangerous relics back to Kamar-Taj where they would be more heavily guarded. Now he’d asked Tony to join him, and Tony decided to bring Peter along, unwilling to let the teen out of his sight. The kid was too trusting. If he saw his counterpart, he might decide to help him without thinking. They still didn’t know _ where _ Peter had gone after his dad was killed, but Tony sincerely doubted it was going to end well for anyone.

“What’ll we do once we’re there?”

Tony sighed. “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t.” The past few days had been one blow after another. Watching himself die and fearing for their lives really was just the cherry on top of the shitty fucking cake. “Strange might be out for blood, or he might decide to retreat.”

Parker frowned, looking at the ground. “I don’t think so.”

“Hm?”

“I mean, you saw what he was like. He wasn’t just mad — I mean, yeah, he _ was _ mad — but it was more than that. He was _ sad_, _ grieving_. The first thing he’s gonna do isn’t get revenge—”

“He’s gonna try to bring him back,” Tony said quietly, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “You might be onto something, kid—” 

“_Move!_” Parker jerked forward, his hands landing on Tony’s chest and pushing him to the ground.

It was too late. The arrow, as thin as a needle and so dark he could barely see it at night, buried itself into Tony’s chest an instant before Peter sensed the attack. Tony stared at him, his mouth open in a silent scream. His body convulsed before suddenly going deathly-still. His eyes glossed over.

“_No! Mister Stark!_” Parker pulled Tony into his arms, shielding him with his body. “Oh my God— _ HELP! DOCTOR STRANGE! PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP ME!_”

* * *

Peter leaned around his dad, surveying Tony and Parker with his third eye. “You got the heart.”

Strange nodded in satisfaction, glamoring them as Stephen ran out from the Sanctum and joined Parker and Tony on the sidewalk. “Obviously.”

* * *

Peter plopped down on the sofa, watching as Strange went over to the table that Stark was laying on. His father — Peter refused to think of him as just a body — was covered from neck to toe with a warm velvet blanket. Crystalline butterflies flitted around his head, ready to serve as messengers in case of an emergency. Strange gently pet his husband’s hair. “You’ll be alright here?”

Peter sighed. “I could go with you. We shouldn’t risk—”

“_No_, Peter,” Strange said in the tone that Peter _ knew _ meant that there would be no more debate. “We’ve discussed this. You will guard your father and keep him safe. If I fall retrieving our prize, then you’ll have to go on. We can’t afford to both lose.”

Peter sighed even as he acknowledged the logic. They needed Tony Stark — specifically, they needed his body. His mind was unnecessary, and Strange would see to its destruction. And it made sense that Strange went to get him while Peter made sure that _ their _ Stark was preserved until the ritual could be completed. 

But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Strange bent over to kiss Peter’s before standing up and straightening. “Watch over your father. I’ll return soon.”

He opened a portal and was gone.

* * *

Parker stared at Tony’s body.

Stephen had pulled them into the Sanctum, ignoring Parker entirely as he tried to figure out what was going on. Tony was laid in a bed, his clothes stripped from his chest. Parker couldn’t help letting out a pained sound. Tony’s chest was charred black with shots of purple and green crossing the skin where veins should have been. His skin was darkest over the heart, inky-blackness trapping light in a way that was inhuman. 

“Peter,” Stephen said through grit teeth, “get out.”

“But—”

“_Out._”

A wind grabbed hold of Parker and pushed him out the door, shutting it behind him. Parker pounded on the door. “Doctor Strange! Let me help!” He kept going until it became clear that Stephen wasn’t going to open the door. Defeated, Parker fell against the door and slid down until his knees hit the wood.

* * *

He stayed there for hours, senses alert for any change in the Sanctum, until finally, _ finally_, the door opened.

Stephen stood above him, blue-green eyes exhausted. “He’s alive. But not for long.”

“Why?” Parker asked, standing up. “What’s happening to him?”

Stephen’s eyes were distant for a moment before snapping back to him. “I’ve never seen it done to a human, or by one for that matter, but I recognize the signs. As the darkness retreats from him and the skin becomes healthy, Tony’s mind will die and his soul will be destroyed, leaving only his body intact.”

Parker stared at him, almost uncomprehending, before speaking again. “No, no, no, no, there’s gotta be a way, right? You can save him? You know how, don’t you?”

Stephen looked away from him. “There’s only one way to stop that spell. The blood of whoever cast it.” He kept speaking, not seeing the look on Parker’s face. “And I can’t imagine Strange or his kid are gonna be showing themselves after something like that. I’ll do everything I can to find them, but—”

Stephen kept speaking, but Parker’s mind was a thousand miles away. He didn’t understand, not really, only Parker did. He may not have known a lot about magic, but he knew plenty about loss. He saw what Peter and Strange were like. They were vengeful creatures, but that was not all they were. They wanted their family member back, and would have no problem destroying someone else to get it.

He finally came back to reality when Stephen said, “I’m going to try to find Strange. Stay with Tony, okay? He needs you.”

Parker nodded. “I will. I promise.”

Stephen sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as one concern was lifted from his shoulders. For a moment, Parker felt bad about lying to him. Then he remembered why he was doing it, and his resolve strengthened. 

It seemed like Stephen might hug him before ultimately deciding not to, turning around and running off with the Cloak close behind, neither of them ever looking back. Parker opened the door to the infirmary and stepped inside.

Tony looked pale, but otherwise fine, laying in bed with a blue blanket pulled up to his neck. Parker set a hand on his arm and gently squeezed. “Don’t worry, Mister Stark. I’m gonna fix it. I _ promise_.” This time, he intended to keep his word.

* * *

Peter was sitting on the couch beside the table his father was laid out on, casually flipping through a comic book and enjoying a bowl of ice cream when he shot up to his feet. His senses were tingling, alerting him to a familiar presence: his own.

He sat back and watched as Parker broke in through a window, not seeming at all worried to find Peter looking at him

The two stared at each other.

Peter spoke first. “Spidey-senses or magic?”

“Senses. I don’t have magic.”

Peter nodded. “How’s your Tony doing?”

“Dead soon.”

“Yeah, our bad. I’m not really _ sorry, _though.” 

Parker stared at him. “I know.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s nothing _ personal_. It’s just the easiest way.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Peter’s eyes were dark and brown, the same as his. “There’s a way to reverse it.”

“Really?” Peter sighed at the confirmation on his double’s face. “By Oshtur, how?”

“The blood of whoever did it.”

Peter stopped and stared at him, eyes sharpening and cutting through him like a knife. “You couldn’t.”

“I don't believe that. Maybe I can't, but Doctor Strange can.” Doctor Strange loved Tony, Peter knew, he would do it, whatever it took, he would do it and everything would be okay again. 

Peter stood up, back tall and straight and strong as steel. “He’s not here. And even if he was, you can’t beat him in a fight. _ No one _ can.”

“Probably not. But other people can. And I’ll have the best bait.”

Peter made a noise that was half-scoff, half-laugh. “You think you can take me?”

“Wanna find out?”

Peter stepped forward until they were less than a foot apart. His apprentice robes transformed into the Iron-Spider suit. “Try me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (quick note that this fic might turn out to be 15 chapters instead of 16, nothing's really changed except that some things ended up being arranged differently than I originally intended)


	10. The End of the World

_ Earth-1250, 2017 _

Stephen held his hand out. The skin was black and burnt, his nails curled into claws. Tony took it with his own, his veins an electric blue. The room in the center of Kamar-Taj was dimly lit, just enough light for them to see each other by. There were only a few other people. Mordo, Pepper, Christine, Rhodey, Peter, and a silent monk whose words echoed through their heads. Only the most important people in their lives.

A length of silk was wrapped around their joined hands, first gold, then red, then black. It tied them together, binding them.

“One heart, one soul, one life,” Stephen said softly, his eyes closing when Tony repeated the words back. 

“Bound forever in the eyes of the Vishanti,” the monk’s words were sounded, her lips unmoving, “as the stars look down in witness.”

_ Stephen has star eyes, _ Tony thought, grinning, half-drunk on joy. _ Stephen Star-Eyed. Like Oshtur. _He felt like he could eat the world raw. 

Stephen’s blackened hand curled around Tony’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He bit down on Tony’s bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. Stephen lapped it up, shivering. _ My Anthony. Mine, now, always. _ There were stars above them. The roof had turned black and blue and purple and green and red, and the stars were silver gems amongst the swirls of color. 

“From this day, you shall know no other, care for no one more than each other, as the stars look down in witness.”

He didn’t think he could love another if he wanted to. Tony was all he could see. It was only them, and the rest of the world had ceased to exist. 

Tony squeezed his hand. “Only you.”

“_Us._”

* * *

_Earth-199991, 2019_

Parker leapt backwards, narrowly avoiding a red ring thrown at his feet. It burned the wooden floor, leaving scorch marks. He didn’t have time to think before jumping up, moving across the ceiling. Taser webs shot out from his hands, aiming for Peter’s hands and missing as his double fell through a portal, landing just beneath him. Parker was already waiting when he did, managing to web a wrist to his leg.

Parker was clenching his teeth through the fight, his ears ringing. The doppelganger was well-trained with magic far beyond the few sparks he’d managed under Stephen’s supervision, but spells took time, and only one of them had ever actually fought for their lives.

Peter curses under his breath, tugging at his hand before giving up and trying to sling a portal at Parker. Too late. The other spider had already jumped down and now swung his leg out, striking Peter straight across the face. Peter fell back on the floor, screaming in pain before whipping his head around to look at him. Parker couldn’t stop himself from staring. He looked _ murderous_, with dark brown eyes and his teeth showing in what was more like a snarl than anything else. He was so caught up in the look of _ himself_, angry and wanting to hurt him took a moment for him to duck when the other tried to take his head off with a glowing silver sickle. 

A few backflips put some distance between them, then he was moving up the wall feet-first. “Karen, enhanced combat mode.”

“Got you, Peter.” She predicted the other teen’s moves seconds before they happened, and Parker swung through the apartment like a madman, shooting at him and trying to pin him down. Peter moved back, finally managing to cut through the webs around his left wrist with a knife that disappeared once he was done with it.

Again Peter’s hands were trapped in a complicated spell, and Parker, thinking fast, ran through the room until he was standing in front of Stark’s corpse. His hand found the dead man’s neck. 

Peter’s eyes widened. He grit his teeth, and there was green fire on his fists. “_Move. NOW." _

“Make me.” Parker jumped up just in time as a fist came at him from the back. 

Lack of true experience or not, the second spider was more than willing to play dirty. Parker had to dodge fingers headed towards his eyes and throat and groin more than once. Then they were trading blows, each of them strong enough to stop a train, and Parker knew he’d be finding bruises for weeks. Each hit made him want to scream in pain, but he bit his tongue and swung harder. If he could just get his head, knock him down long enough to tie him up, then maybe—

A yellow-gold portal opened in the room, and Strange stepped through with Tony in his arms. He stopped. “Peter?”

The Iron-Spider moved fast, too fast, wrapping an arm around Parker’s throat and pulling him back. Parker tried to yank the arm away, but their strength was matched, and they were at a standstill. “Do the spell!” Peter tried to drag them back to no avail. “_Hurry!_”

Strange hesitated before moving forward, laying Tony next to Stark on the table. He removed his gloves, exposing the ink-black skin and purple streaks. He lay a hand on each man’s chest. “Dormammu, hear my call.”

“NO!” Parker scratched at the fingers holding him in place, then at Peter’s eyes. Peter turned his head, but tightened his hold, refusing to give an inch. The words that Strange chanted, born of a language unknown to humans, sung in his ears and blood. Strange was glowing, a third eye shining green in the center of his forehead as the blackness moved further up his arms, sinking into his skin, into Tony and Stark’s throats. 

Strange almost fell to his knees, his lips curled into a feral grin. “Dormammu, bring him back to me—”

Stephen appeared behind him, moving as fast as light and as quiet as a shadow. A scarred hand wrapped around Strange’s throat. The other held a knife. “_Stop this._”

Strange grinned wider. “Stop me, then.”

So he did.

Stephen’s hand moved with surgical precision, slicing Strange’s throat opened. Blood spilled over his pale skin, bright red, too red. Strange sputtered, mouth gaping in shock, too surprised to even notice the pain. He tried to raise a hand to his neck, but Stephen stopped him, forcing his hand down and pushing him over the table so his blood poured over Tony, reviving him, waking him. Tony gasped, and blood fell into his mouth. 

Strange tried to fight, but couldn’t. His skin turned white as snow, and he fell to the ground, his hand clawing for his husband. His eyes were blue once more, and he was gone. Stephen and Parker stood still in the room and listened to Peter’s screams. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark!Stephen after chapter six: Why would you kill him like that?!  
Me: You’re next.


	11. Sweeter Place

_ Earth-1250, 2018 _

Shifting in his seat, Peter only allowed himself to look at each envoy for a few seconds. His fathers stood a distance away, speaking with Rampage (_Pepper) _ and War Machine _ (Rhodey)_. Stephen’s eyes skated over him for a minute, and he smiled. Peter tried to smile back.

He looked at the Kree next. Vers and Yon-Rogg, two of the most well-known and influential Kree warriors and leaders of their most elite team, the Starforce. Vers was known to tear straight through warships without injury. The Asgardians were with them, Loki’s son Fenrir with an entourage of guards and gods. Dangerous but useful, all of them. They were surrounded by enemies and friends.

Stephen seemed to know what he was thinking. He settled Peter with a look. The teen heard his father’s voice in his head, listening to the cool, deep tone.

_ Everyone who is not us is an enemy. But so long as we control the arena, we can control them. _

Peter nodded once and smiled, standing up to return to the conversation. If there were enemies, then he would subdue them with words before blood.

He thought it might always come to blood in the end.

* * *

_Earth-199991, 2019_

Stephen pulled Tony up and to the floor at the same time as Peter hurled himself forward, falling beside Strange’s body, hands fumbling at his neck in a desperate attempt to staunch the blood that had already slowed. “Dad? Dad, please . . .” Peter cried, his face crumpling as blood dirtied his hands. “Dad, come on . . . you _ promised . . ._”

Tony fumbled, staring at the bodies and at both Peters. “What . . .”

Stephen pushed Tony behind him, ready for a fight. “Careful, Tony.” He couldn’t look at the image of himself lying dead on the floor with a child mourning him. He could not allow himself to regret saving Tony. He _ couldn’t._

Eyes red and overflowing with tears, Peter looked at him with rage and horror and so much grief. “You took . . .” His words were broken by hiccups and sobs. “. . . _ everything _ from me.”

Stephen couldn’t respond. 

He looked up once more to make himself face Peter, and the boy and the bodies were gone.

* * *

Peter fell between the bodies, holding a hand from each and sobbing into the ground. Cold air bit at his skin and the stone below him tore his clothes, but he did not feel it. He would feel nothing less than a hurricane. He wanted a storm for his grief, and fire for his rage.

His hands gripped theirs so hard that he felt the bones break, and he sobbed harder. “_Dad . . . dad, please . . ._” He was only a child. He did not know what to do, he knew only that he desperately wanted his parents’ comfort. “_Please get up . . ._”

They did not respond.

* * *

It took a long time for him to think, let alone move. When he did, he bit his lip from the pain of coming face-to-face of Strange’s colorless, lifeless eyes. It hurt, like broken glass smashed into his heart, but he made himself look at him. “What do I do, dad? I’m lost. I just . . . I want you guys back.” He was teetering on the border of safety and hopelessness, ready to fling himself over one side or the other. Tears burned him. “Please, just tell me what to do. I don’t know how, tell me what to do.”

Strange said nothing, but Peter kept staring at him. Slowly, and then all at once, an idea came to him. 

Peter fell forward, pressing his forehead to Strange’s blood-covered chest. “Thanks, dad.”

* * *

Stephen passed a warm wet cloth over Tony’s face, cleaning the blood away. “How do you feel?”

Tony rolled his neck, wincing at the ache. “Like an evil wizard tried to kill me and steal my body for his equally-evil mad scientist husband.” 

Stephen half-smiled. “I don’t think that’s on the pain scale.”

“That’s the scale’s problem, not mine.” He tried to sit up, but quickly gave in to his body’s desire to sink into the blankets and pillows, assisted by Stephen gently pushing him down.

“Stay still,” the doctor chided. “You’re recovering.”

“Ugh, fine, mother hen,” Tony joked, secretly relieved. A deep, painful ache had settled into his entire body, and it was only Stephen’s magic that allowed him to focus on reality and not lose himself in his mind. “Spiderling says you were pretty good back there.” _ Terrifying and ruthless _ was technically what Peter had said, but he decided not to mention that. 

Stephen looked away. “I didn’t want to,” he whispered before looking up at Tony with star-eyes. “But you were hurt.”

Using all the effort he was willing to, Tony reached a hand out and wrapped it around the doctor’s scarred and trembling one. “I’m sorry you had to do that for me. I know how much you hate hurting people.”

Stephen shook his head. “I would do it again.”

“For me?” Tony teased with the slightest smile.

“Always,” Stephen whispered. 

Part of him was desperate to retreat into himself, crack a joke and flirt without meaning, but he stopped himself. It was no use hiding, not from Stephen. He didn’t want to.

Carefully, he pulled Stephen closer, wincing as he moved to the side to make room for the sorcerer on the bed. Stephen frowned, but followed him, watching for signs of pain as he did. He almost asked if Tony needed help, but didn’t. Tony’s hand raised, brushing through the dark strands of Stephen’s hair before curling around the back of his head.

“Tony?” Stephen breathed before leaning in.

The door burst open. “Guys!” Parker ran in, stopped, and stared at them. “Uhh . . .”

Tony and Stephen quickly broke apart, Stephen awkwardly falling back into his chair while Tony lay down. 

Parker shook his head. “I can’t with you guys right now. I would, but we have much bigger problems.”

Stephen stood up. “What’s happening?”

Parker started to speak, but then he was thrown forward by the shaking building, landing on a wall with his hands. At the same time, Stephen fell back on the bed, instinctively reaching out a hand and wrapping it around Tony’s arm. Mind turning, Stephen drew a hand down Tony’s arm and the other down his chest, forming an almost-solid gold light that encased Tony, shielding him from harm and preventing movement. “Stay here!” Stephen jumped up and grabbed Parker, running to the door.

“Stephen—” Tony started.

Stephen didn’t look back as he shouted, “_Stay here, Tony!_” He ran into the hall with Parker. The walls were covered in the gold sigils of the Sanctum’s protective wards. Now, they glowed brighter and brighter, bright enough to hurt, before turning black and red. _ Chaos magic. _ “_PETER!_” They ran into the foyer—

Where Peter was laying in a chair with his feet propped up on one arm, lazily reading a leather-bound spellbook that even Stephen hadn’t read. He looked up at them, not seeming surprised. “Oh, hey guys. What’s up?”

Stephen tried to step forward. “Peter—”

Peter flicked his hand, sending Stephen flying back to a wall. He was pinned like a bug in a case, and he could feel the protection wards burning into the back of his neck. 

Peter smirked, satisfied. When Parker tried to jump up to the ceiling to attack him from behind, the young sorcerer left him stuck there, first with spelled chains, then with webs of his own. 

Peter leaned back in the chair, staring up at the painted ceiling. “I’m an idiot. We’ve been fighting on unknown territory against a larger force. But what happens if I switch it up?” He jumped up, kicking the chair out of his way. When he landed on the floor, the wards there started glowing in the same way, going from gold to red and then black. “Let’s find out.”

Stephen tried to move, to do _ anything _ to even struggle against the blood-powered magic, and he just managed to move his sling-ring and spark his hands—

Dark light filled the room. 

* * *

_Earth-1250, 2019_

Peter rolled along the floor to his feet, looking around. Strange and Stark, their bodies contained by powerful preservation spells, were on the ground near him, but Tony, Stephen, and Parker were gone. _ No. _ He shook his head, trying to figure out what went wrong. “Where . . .”

He looked up to see Mordo coming down the stairs of the Sanctum, stopping to stare first at him, then at Strange and Stark. He stilled. “Peter . . . what happened?”

Peter stared, filling his blood boil with rage. “_Where did they go?_”


	12. Tightrope

_ Earth-1250, 2017 _

Wakanda was the last major country to hold out against them. There was no other way it could be. If they attacked earlier, there would be too many people for the Wakandans to join forces with and any victory would have been hard-won. But the country was isolated from the outside world and preferred it that way. As long as they made no move against them directly, they would not fight.

Now, there was no one for them to turn to, and Tony and Stephen had never been stronger. It was time to strike.

They were waiting for them, of course. Stephen expected nothing less of the Black Panther.

They met in the lands of the Border Tribe, a space with no buildings and few trees. T’Challa was there at the front, along with all of the Dora Milaje, the border’s protectors with their defensive cloaks, and more than a thousand other soldiers in gold-and-purple armor. All of them had their weapons ready. An impressive show of strength, and they knew it. They decided to return the favor.

Stephen and Tony arrived alone, Tony in a burgundy silk suit and yellow-tinted sunglasses and Stephen in his more casual blue robes rather than the black-and-red, though he still wore his gloves. They smiled when they met the king at the forcefield. “T’Challa,” Stephen said cordially, speaking first. “It’s a great pleasure to finally meet you.”

T’Challa was not smiling. “I will give you one warning: leave my country and never return, or you will have nothing but blood and death to show for it.”

Stephen sighed, looking like a put-upon parent. “T’Challa, you mistake our intentions entirely. We merely want to peacefully bring Wakanda into our . . .” He paused, turning to Tony. “Did we ever come up with a name for it?”

“I think we were going with ‘empire’, but that’s _ really _ not a good look right now.”

Stephen nodded slightly and returned his attention to T’Challa, well-aware that he had never stopped watching or listening to them. “Our federation of lands and countries, dedicated to protecting and enriching the lives of . . ." Stephen seemed tired of his own bullshit. He sighed, loosening his shoulders and pulling his arm away from Tony's. "Can we talk? Just you and me? Tony can stay with your guys for a minute, bit of insurance?"

If Tony was concerned by Stephen’s quick change in plans, he didn’t show it. He willingly held his hands out, allowing one of T’Challa’s bodyguards to place a pair of cuffs on them. It took a moment for him to notice the dampening effect it had on his Extremis powers. _ Oh_, he thought, delighted, _ I have got to find out how they do that. _

Aware that he could choose to start a battle now or risk death with Stephen, T’Challa waited until Tony was in the Dora Milaje’s hands before silently nodding and stepping out through the barrier. They walked away from the others, Stephen animatedly making small talk while T’Challa watched him warily.

No one knew what the sorcerer and the king spoke of, not even Tony. Only that the discussion lasted less than an hour, and when they returned, neither one injured or upset, T’Challa informed those gathered of his decision to surrender and submit willingly to the Stark-Strange alliance.

There were no signs of a spell controlling T’Challa, but that did not stop the whispered speculation. Whispers turned to angrily spoken words when the terms were announced.

_ Wakanda and its leaders will be expected to follow any and all laws that the Empire passes. Any Wakandan citizens actively attempting to rebel or stage a rebellion against the Alliance must be captured and turned over to the proper authorities. T’Challa and his descendants will retain their status of royalty and their titles; they will answer only to Stephen Strange, Tony Stark, and any descendants of the two who take up their mantle as Supreme Rulers of Earth. Any Wakandan officials who object to the Alliance must be replaced; if any of T’Challa’s choices prove insufficient, then the choice will be made by Stark and Strange. Any rules, laws, customs, and businesses that were in place previously and do not contradict those of the Alliance shall continue. ALL Wakandan citizens MUST be equipped with the PsycheImplants that are used to monitor health and crime. Any acts against the Empire that are committed by the royal family will be tried as treason and punished accordingly._

* * *

_Earth-1250, 2019 _

Stephen opened his eyes, blinking at the bright lights he found himself staring at. “Tony,” he whispered, trying and failing to turn his head. “Where’s Tony?” He finally managed to look around, seeing he was in a brightly-lit and well-decorated medical or technical room of some sort. “Peter . . .”

Suddenly, a hand appeared before him, quickly followed by the face of someone he vaguely recognized. He searched his considerable memory before coming up with a name. “Shuri?”

The princess smiled serenely at him. “Supreme Emperor? Is that you?”

Stephen stared at her. “What? No, I’m just . . . where am I?” He closed his eyes, trying to remember. “Peter . . . the kid, he brought us here after he . . . fuck, is this the other universe?”

Shuri’s smile had fallen. Now her face was carefully neutral, her eyes bright and cutting. “You are not from this world?”

Stephen shook his head.

Shuri sighed in relief, her shoulders relaxing. “Oh, thank Bast. I hate having that man here.” Her hand moved under the edge of the stark white table Stephen was laying on, pressing something. Stephen felt his body relax, and he could move his body. “You can’t rest for long. My brother wishes to speak to you and the others.”

Stephen sat up. “Others?”

* * *

T’Challa sat in a carved vibranium chair at the head of the room, a series of plain black seats surrounding him, all empty. Farther into the room, Parker, Tony, and Stephen sat on a plain white bench. Okoye guarded the door with a spear in hand, and Shuri stood behind her brother. The king looked at all of them with the utmost seriousness. “What we say in here can not be heard by or repeated to anyone else.”

Parker nodded eagerly, seeming only minorly concerned about being trapped in another universe, unlike Stephen who radiated anxiety and Tony who was barely holding onto consciousness. Still, everyone agreed, and T’Challa waited a moment before speaking. “Peter Stark-Strange returned to New York earlier today. No one had even known he was gone, but hours ago, I received a message from him informing me that if anyone bearing the resemblance of Stark or Strange were found, I should hand them over immediately.”

Tony looked around warily. His chest was aching, still recovering from the spell Strange had used to destroy his mind and weaken his body. “So are you gonna fuck us over or not?”

“_Tony_,” Stephen whispered harshly.

“Hey, I’m tired, I’m trapped in another universe, and I almost died, excuse me for wanting a straight answer.”

“I have not yet decided what to do with you,” T’Challa said, ignoring Tony for the time being. “I know that if I’m found to be harboring those I suspect the Spider would call ‘criminals’, I would be arrested and killed, and my people would be left to his mercy.”

Parker frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “You don’t think . . . he’d do something _ that _ bad, right?”

T’Challa watched him for a moment, noticing the boy’s discomfort and stress. He looked away. “I don’t know what he would do. He is young and untested, and many love him for his acts of charity. But he was raised by those men, and no one knows what he will do now.”

“It sounds like you want to hand us over,” Stephen said quietly. “So why do I feel like that’s not what’s going to happen?”

T’Challa eyed him. “I received intelligence from an . . . ally of mine named Wong. He said you would be arriving somewhere in our universe soon, and would need help. You are lucky the spell brought you here. Wakanda is one of the few places where Stark and Strange are almost universally hated.”

Stephen nodded, looking down as he tried to think of what happened. He knew that in the moments before Peter completed the spell, he’s managed to do _ something _ with his sling-ring. But he hadn’t had a particular destination in mind. Only the hope for somewhere _ safe_.

Thank the Vishanti for small mercies.

“What do you mean this is one of the _ only _ places where people don’t like those assholes?” Tony asked, resisting the urge to slump in his chair.

“Make no mistake,” Shuri said, speaking up beside her brother. “They’re violent men, and the blood of more than a million people was spilled in their conquest. But they’re not stupid. They style themselves as benevolent rulers, bringing people food, clean water, medicine, shelter, safety. In under a year, they eradicated homelessness and hunger and have nearly done the same with crime. Trust me, if my brother did not know that they would show mercy, he would have fought them.”

T’Challa didn’t face his sister. His dark eyes seemed haunted for a moment. Then it passed, and he was himself again. “You will stay here until you find a way to return to your world. For now, do not attempt to leave or confront Peter. It is better that he give up on looking for you in his own time then bring him here.” 

Parker stared at him, stunned for a moment before speaking. “What? Mister T’Challa— your majesty— your kingliness— sir, we can’t just . . . not do anything. He tried to kill Mister Stark. He’s—” Peter swallowed. “He’s a _ dictator_, and so were his dads. We can’t let him get away with—”

“There’s nothing to be done,” T’Challa said, raising his voice before lowering it again. “If his parents are truly dead as Wong told me, then Peter is currently the most powerful man known. He will have the Iron Legion and the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj behind him, never mind thousands of human soldiers that he could draft if he wished. If you must fight, do not expect our help.”

Parker, Stephen, and Tony all stared at him, stunned. T’Challa felt the weight of their eyes like the world on his shoulders, but he kept going. “The boy is not his parents, but who can say yet if that is good? Either way, I know what happens to those who fight them. Strange’s sorcerers and Stark’s Iron Legion are almost unstoppable apart, never mind together. Even if we won, the fight would weaken us beyond repair. My family would be massacred and he would install his own government with his own people, as his fathers did to so many others. And when the deed was done, if I rebelled and lost, then . . . Strange wanted Wakanda more than any other country. We were the last ones to hold out against them. He wanted our strength, our vibranium, but most of all our submission. And what he said to me that day . . .” He turned away for a moment, forming and re-forming a fist with one hand before looking back. “Now, when Peter has Asgardian and Kree allies, people from worlds with weapons more advanced than we have ever fought _ as well _ as the Iron Legion and Kamar-Taj, you want me to risk my country and my people?” He shook his head sadly. “You will have a place here until your return home. But I will not fight with you.”

T’Challa stood to show the conversation was over and gestured to Okoye. “General, please show our guests to their rooms and ensure that no one sees them. I will speak to—” Before he could finish, a bead on the bracelets that T’Challa, Shuri, and Okoye all wore started flashing red. The king stared for a moment before slowly raising his wrist and accepting the message. “Yes, W’Kabi?”

“T’Challa,” the king’s friend and leader of the Border Tribe began, “there are sorcerers attempting to enter the capital. We weren’t expecting them now. Shall I allow them through?”

T’Challa never let his face slip, though he was more than anything _ tired _ inside. “I don’t see that we have a choice.” He shared a look with Tony and Stephen. “Let them in.”


	13. Paralyzed

_ Earth-1250, 2019 _

Peter stood before the screen, standing ramrod straight as he spoke to the King of Asgard. _ He needs to listen to me. I am in charge until I can restore my fathers. I must be everything that they are, I must be smart and cunning and diplomatic and wise and ruthless. I must know how to lead and plan and solve problems and inspire loyalty and help my people and crush my enemies. _ The weight of the world was on his shoulders, but if he couldn't bear it then all was lost. "As one of our strongest allies, I hope that you'll help me in searching for a solution." A dozen of Kamar-Taj's oldest masters were searching the library for a spell or ritual that could bring someone back to life, but they needed more eyes. Loki was a slippery snake, but had all the resources of Asgard and knew magic that they didn't. 

Loki smiled. "Of course, young prince. Although may I inquire as to why one of your fathers isn't making the request?"

_ Green eyes_, Peter thought, _ venomous eyes that hide everything behind a careful mask of jade. Eyes, watch the eyes. _"They're busy men," Peter spoke swiftly, not giving his nerves any time to sabotage him, "and I speak with their power. When we fight together, I would like to have said more than five words to you."

"You've done that now," Loki snarked, but he seemed appeased. Peter hoped so, at least. "I will speak to you if I find anything."

"I look forward to hearing from you again. Until then." He signed off, and Loki's face disappeared from the screen as it slid back into the wall. Peter signed, sinking into a chair and rubbing his eyes. He felt like he'd aged ten years in a day, but there was no time to stop now. More than a hundred sorcerers were searching the planet looking for the murderers, and he needed to be available to hear and help them. And if they didn't find anything . . . 

Well. He would figure something else out. He was his fathers' son, after all.

In the meantime . . . 

A quick portal took him to his parents' room. It was the largest bedroom in the building, and would be his if . . .

Well, he wouldn't take it. It would be weird. He would just stay in his room. Or move. This place had so many memories.

Strange and Stark were laid out on their bed, hands palm-down and feet pointed up. They were still in their clothes, but Peter had cleaned the blood from them. He stood over them and frowned before taking one hand from Stark and intertwining it with Strange's. _ There_, he thought as his touch turned them to black stone, statues that would remain in perfect condition until they were revived. _ Together._

* * *

T'Challa stiffened when he saw Karl Mordo marching towards him, leading a force of almost a dozen sorcerers. He knew he wasn't entirely trusted, but it was a bad sign that Strange's second-in-command had personally come to inspect Wakanda.

The King respectfully bowed his head. "Master Mordo, to what do we owe this great pleasure?"

Mordo watched him warily, looking around at the palace room. "There are three escaped criminals who have taken the appearance of our fearless leaders and their son. I will need to search Wakanda to see if they're hidden here."

T'Challa knew he shouldn't push. Wakanda's situation was a delicate one, and it was up to him to keep the balance. But he didn't know if Stephen would be able to hide them, and he couldn't do _ nothing_. So he spoke. "I have had no word from our rulers that my land and home were to be searched like we are common criminals. And you do not have the authority to order it. May I remind you that I answer only to Stark and Strange."

"And their heirs," Mordo reminded him sharply, black-and-gold eyes cutting through the King like a knife. "This is Peter's command. I act in his name."

T’Challa was tempted to ask for proof, but he knew by the sorcerer's eyes that it would be suicide. Reluctantly, he nodded. "Very well. I hope our young prince is aware that I have always cooperated with his parents’ rule and sought peaceful solutions to any disagreements we had."

Mordo had a strange half-smile that looked like it belonged more on the Sorcerer Supreme than on him. "He is well aware of that, as am I. And your decision to integrate peacefully into our new world gained you much freedom to do as you wish." He paused, looking down as he pretended to think over his next words before catching T'Challa's eye. "Perhaps _ too _ much. Perhaps that freedom might now be used to harbor murderers and criminals and traitors." He hummed thoughtfully. "We never did learn who sheltered Rogers for so long."

T’Challa paused as he stared at him. Then, calmly,_ very_ calmly, he started to speak. When you have searched my home and my kingdom and found nothing, then I shall expect an apology. Not from Peter, of course, or the Emperors. They cannot control how their generals speak once out of hearing."

Mordo chuckled, a dark sound that made even the King want to shudder. But he stood fast, refusing to do so much as blink as the sorcerer stared him down. Slowly, Mordo’s mouth curled into a distasteful sneer. He looked to the group that had come with him. “Aemma, lead half of them through the city. Clea, take the rest and search the borders. I’ll search the palace. Meet each other in the middle then return here.” Without another word to T’Challa, Mordo sent them on their way, himself brushing past the King, who watched him go with a growing pit of dread in his stomach.

Mordo swept through the below-ground levels first, using a combination of tracking spells and his third eye. He moved quickly, leaving anyone he saw unconscious on the floor, using portals to make his way up. In less than twenty minutes, he was in the medical bay, standing right in front of Stephen.

Stephen stood as still as a board, Tony and Parker behind him, as he projected a field of magic around them. It hurt his already overworked body to do it, but there was no other choice. A fight here and now was too risky. He didn’t even know if this would work, if this version of Mordo was stronger than he predicted or if he would sense the layers of powerful magic that he’d woven together. He hoped that the sensors Tony, Shuri, and Parker had set up would disorient Mordo’s sense just enough to throw him off and make him pass over them. 

For a minute, Mordo simply stood there, staring ahead, face tense with concentration. Then he shook his head, stepping back and muttering something before walking off. The sling ring slipped onto his hand, and with the creation of a few sparks, he was gone.

* * *

Peter sat up in his chair when Mordo walked in, putting aside the report that Pepper had sent him. “Anything?”

His heart fell when Mordo shook his head. “They’re not in Wakanda, little prince. We can’t find them.”

Peter slumped back in his chair, one hand mindlessly playing with a pen. “I was so sure . . .” The message was the same from the other members of Kamar-Taj and the Iron Legion who’d been searching, but he had thought Wakanda would be it . . . “What else can we do?”

Mordo looked away. “We’re still looking for a way to bring back Tony and Stephen at Kamar-Taj. Your father is the greatest sorcerer since Agamotto. He will know what to do.”

“But until then . . .” Peter trailed off. The pen broke in his hand, spreading red ink over his skin. “We’re sitting ducks.” He hated this. His feet were bouncing on the floor, and his shoulders were close to bursting with energy. He wasn’t meant to be so useless.

“There is one thing you may do,” Mordo said knowingly.

Peter stared at him. “Why is everyone always so cryptic?”

Mordo sighed, his drama ruined. “Peter, you are still only an apprentice, not a Master of the Mystic Arts. If, Vishanti forbid, we are unable to revive the Sorcerer Supreme, you will need to lead Kamar-Taj. And they will not follow a child.”

Peter’s cheeks burned. “I’m not a kid.”

“I know that. You know that. Now you must show the world that.”

Peter turned, staring at a dark wall. “They were supposed to be there. Dad told me about it. He said I’d know when I was ready.”

Mordo tilted his head. “_Are _ you ready?”

Peter didn’t answer.


	14. Seven Devils

_ Earth-1250, 2019 _

Trying to turn his mind from the stone men that haunted him, Peter spent sunrise to sunset in Kamar-Taj’s hot springs, cleaning his skin so it was pink and raw. He tried to meditate, but as he breathed in the steam, visions danced across his eyes and mind, images of dimensions he hadn’t seen and didn’t know, of sorcerers both past and future, of the Vishanti and mighty Agamotto, of his father with three eyes and six arms. As he stared, Strange shifted and changed, until it was Peter channeling the Vishanti’s power, with glowing golden eyes and magic seeping from his body. 

Peter was sobbing and screaming at the water when the sun set, and Mordo and Aemma dragged him out of the springs and back to the main building of Kamar-Taj. Though their eyes showed their concern, neither spoke, only leaving him a set of red apprentice robes to dress in. Peter sniffled before pulling himself together, wiping away the tears and slowly gaining control of his breath. He finally stood and dressed, pulling on the robes that had become familiar to him, but leaving his feet uncovered.

When he was done, he walked through the halls of the temple. The lights had been put out, and he had to go by memory. He stopped before a door, drawing his fingertips over the elaborate mask-shaped door handle. He waited too long before pulling it open. 

Inside stood the Masters of the Mystic Arts, all but his father . . . and Wong. Peter did not look at them, only walking to the middle of the room and standing completely still. A moment later, hands set down lightly on his back, feeling the red fabric of his apprentice robes. Peter’s jaws clenched when the sorcerer started to undress him, but Strange had warned him long ago now of what the ceremony would involve, and he was ready for it. 

Both too much and too little time seemed to have passed when he stood naked in the center of the temple, bared to eyes both human and other-worldly. The Vishanti did not show themselves, but he knew they were watching. His father said they only attended the most important of human rituals. Strange’s own ascendance was one such time. Peter knew this was similar.

When he looked forward again, Karl Mordo stood before him, drawing an eye on Peter’s forehead with oil that smelled like moss and something . . . other. Mordo stepped back when he was done, and Peter felt someone pressing down on his back, bending him to the ground. 

Like a puppet with its strings cut, Peter fell to the ground, just barely managing to catch himself before face-planting completely. He lowered himself down gracefully the rest of the way, and at the same time, a knee found his lower back as the hand skated up to in between his shoulder blades. He was being held down, silent and humbled before the eyes of the Vishanti. He felt simultaneously weak and powerful, a sort of low, quiet energy singing through his veins, making him stronger than before. He opened his third eye — not green like his father’s, but gold, the color of Oshtur, Hoggoth, and Agamotto united.

Peter rose without thinking, his footing sure and his back straight. Ink black robes that absorbed every ounce of light wrapped around his body, cinched at the waist by a wide, golden belt that housed the nanites of his Iron Spider suit. Idly, thoughtlessly, his hands smoothed down the soft black fabric and cool metal.

* * *

“Master Wong.”

Wong froze when he heard the voice, turning a moment later to face the speaker. “Peter.” The young man had discarded his apprentice’s robes, and his new ones were cut in the same style and color as Strange’s, but without the red sigils and with a shining gold belt around his waist. “Shall I call you Master Parker now?” He tried to keep his tone light, but it was impossible when Peter was staring at him like that.

The young sorcerer took a step forward. “You weren’t at my ascendency ceremony.”

“I apologize. I was searching the library as you instructed me, looking for a way to resurrect your parents.” A lie. He’d been hiding various artifacts from Kamar-Taj and the New York Sanctum in the hopes of keeping it out of Peter’s hands. 

Peter took another step. “Where’s the Eye of Agamotto?”

Wong paused. His shoulders tightened anxiously. “Your father had it last. I don’t know where he keeps it.” Lies, all lies. The Eye was hidden in a pocket dimension, and he would die before handing it over. Before, he’d thought that removing Stark and Strange would be enough and the kinder, more malleable Peter would make a good replacement. Now, as Peter moved closer, staring him down with cold dark eyes, he was uncomfortably aware of the holes in that plan.

“Come on. You must know. You were one of his most trusted friends.” 

_ Were. Past tense. _ “Stephen is a private man. He did not wish for others to have too much information in case we were tortured or had our minds searched—”

In seconds, the nanites encased Peter from head to toe, and four huge metal spider legs sprouted from his back, one of them pinning each of Wong’s hands to the wall. Wong tried to speak, to yell out, but a lump had formed in his throat, like he was being choked, incapable of speaking or even breathing.

Peter leaned in closer. There was still oil on his forehead. “When are you going to stop lying, Wong? We _ trusted _you.”

Wong tried to summon some bit of power, a shield, his sling-ring, _ anything_—

Then the world stilled and turned dark.

* * *

Peter was having a private breakfast with Pepper and discussing the political situation of the American west coast where rumors of a new resistance movement were spreading when the report came.

It was Mordo who brought it. Loyal Mordo, Strange’s strong right hand back when his own had been scarred and shaking. Now he was easily slipping into the same role for Peter. 

Thew young sorcerer kept telling himself to be careful, to not fully trust anyone and watch the eyes, even more so since he became aware of Wong’s betrayal, but he couldn’t bring himself to do the same with Wong, Pepper, or Rhodey. They were the closest thing he had to family, at least until they found a way to revive his dads.

Peter stood first when Mordo entered, setting aside political matters for the moment. “Is there news?”

The light in the sorcerer’s eyes told him the answer immediately.

* * *

He received Loki at the coliseum where his birthday celebration had been held. It felt like yesterday and a thousand years ago, but now wasn’t the time for reminiscing. Peter stood in the very center, just before the vibranium chains that had held Steve Rogers before his death. His new black robes made him look more powerful than he felt, and he kept his hands behind his back so he couldn’t fidget with them like he sometimes did. _ Strength, I must have strength in my eyes when he sees me. Not weakness. Not childishness, not weakness. _ He was a sorcerer of Kamar-Taj, a Master of the Mystic Arts, heir to the world, and he would be seen as such.

The Asgardian arrived shortly after him, walking up to the platform that Peter stood on and staying just in front of it. Peter debated inviting him up before deciding against it. Instead, he spoke. “Welcome, King of Asgard.”

Loki had the same half-smile that he always did. “Spider-Man, I believe?”

Peter decided to let that slide.

There were few formalities in place (both Stark and Strange hated them), but he discarded the few there were out of hand, anxious to learn what the demigod knew. “I was told you have news related to my parents.”

“Indeed,” Loki said, slowed down by his desire to make everything he said mysterious. “I suppose you want to know what it is?”

It was an effort not to snap at him. He couldn’t afford to drive away such a dangerous ally. He had the bargaining chips of Thor and Odin if need be, but he was desperate not to drop to such measures. “If you’ll tell me.”

Loki looked away from him and up at the grand stone structure they stood in, appearing lost in thought, though Peter knew better. “I was consulting with my mother, Frigga, on the great matter you brought to my attention, and she told me of someone who may be able to help.”

Peter’s heart leapt, and his eyes widened before he brought himself under control. He couldn’t allow Loki any more leverage than he already had. “Excellent. I would like to speak with this person at the earliest convenience. The person I wish to resurrect is of significant importance to my family’s empire.” He thought he sounded appropriately official and serious. 

“You may do so now,” Loki said easily, his fingers moving over a bit of leather at his waist. It took a moment for Peter to see if there was a weapon there or not.

Peter hesitated, but he couldn’t risk putting it off just to save face. He needed to save his parents sooner, not later. “I will.”

* * *

He only waited to send a message to Pepper and Mordo leaving them in charge before traveling with the king via Bifrost to Asgard, a glowing golden city, the palace of which was framed by two towering statues of Loki Friggason. 

Loki stepped forward first, leading Peter through the palace. Some of the areas he’d seen before in visits and at celebrations, but as soon as they started downstairs, they were in unfamiliar territory. They walked amongst the cells where enemies of the crown were kept, most of them in simple rooms with a bed and a wall made of shimmering gold light separating them, but others were in elaborate chains, full-body suits that prevented movement, caskets, or even sleeping in what Peter knew instantly were eternal comas. “You have a nice collection.”

“We try. Of course, much of this is my mother’s work.” Loki paused in front of a door, passing his hand over it so a series of glowing green and gold symbols glowed one after the other. When the door opened, he walked in without pausing to see if Peter was following him, making the young sorcerer have to walk fast to keep up. “And _ this _ is the vault.”

In the dimly-lit room, less than a dozen gold-and-stone podiums stood, each of them holding an artifact. Some of them Peter recognized instantly, like the Tessaract and the Casket of Ancient Winters. Others were unknown even to him. 

Peter would have loved to study them and maybe bring one or two to Kamar-Taj, but Loki ignored all the others to focus on one, making Peter drag his eyes away from them. The king stood before what looked like an electrum bowl with a fire dancing in it, despite having nothing to burn. “_This _ is the Eternal Flame.”

It took a moment for Peter to recognize the name, briefly wishing he shared his father’s memory. “The Eternal Flame can resurrect people.” He stopped himself from adding ‘_Right?_’

“Precisely.” Loki suddenly turned away, looking as though he couldn’t possibly care less. “Unfortunately, such a power is too dangerous to merely be tampered with. Even I, with all the power of Asgard behind me—” Peter was starting to see why Stark never dealt with Loki on his own, “—dare not use it myself.”

Peter was rapidly losing patience. He was so close to bringing back Stark and Strange, and now his own ally didn’t want to help? “It doesn’t matter if it’s dangerous. Everything about this life is dangerous. Can this bring someone back to life? If so, we need it, _ now_.”

Loki tsked. “Temper, little spider. _ I _can’t wield such power easily. Life and death need an expert touch. My domain is tricks, mischief, chaos. To attempt to do so on my own would be disastrous.”

“Then who?” He wasn’t letting go. It didn’t matter if he had to throttle Loki. He would—

“There is _ one_, a goddess of death unrivaled in power — besides myself and Frigga, of course.”

“_Who?_”

Loki paused a moment before looking up with eyes that were much too green. “Hela.”


	15. Time In A Bottle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *warnings for self-stabbing, and also other people-stabbing

_ Earth-1250, 2019 _

Peter almost screamed when he first saw Hela.

Her face was half-corpse, half-woman. The living side was beautiful, with the same emerald eyes as Loki and ink-black hair framing a carved face. The dead side had only a thin layer of translucent skin stretched over bone, and white-silver hair that was brittle and breaking. Peter could make out the socket that held her milk-white eye. Her teeth were visible through thin lips. 

None of that scared him. But it was _ her _ — the goddess of death exuded an air of fear and misery, enough to stop a mortal in their tracks and make them beg her for mercy she would never grant. 

But Peter wasn’t just a mortal man. He could take it. He _ could _ take this.

Peter dragged himself forward, every movement an effort. He swallowed twice before speaking, his voice barely above a squeak. “Hela.”

She turned her head, and the movement reminded him of an insect. “Young Stark.” She walked around, watching him with eyes that didn’t move. “Father spoke of you.”

Peter couldn’t keep himself from shivering. Her attention was making his neck heat up, and his spider-sense was screaming at him to run, run, run. “He said you can help me.”

Hela made a face that Peter belatedly realized was a smile. “Your fathers are dead. They wander the stars under the watchful eyes of the Vishanti, calling out to their son to avenge them.”

“Revenge isn’t what I seek.” 

A wheezing noise forced its way out from Hela’s chest. _ Laughter. _ “The Eternal Flame is not enough to bring them back. On its own, it will only restore their bodies, making them mindless corpses only capable of doing the bidding of another.”

Peter finally moved, copying her stalking motions. The hair on his hands and the back of his neck were raised. “And with you?”

Hela smiled. “_I _am enough.” After a brief pause, she added, “With a blood sacrifice.”

Peter nodded. _ Search the eyes. _ “What do you want in return?”

Hela tossed her head slightly, black and white hair moving against each other. “What makes you think I want anything?”

_ Everyone wants something. _Peter shrugged casually. “Call me realistic.”

Hela lowered her eyes before looking away from him, instead surveying her prison, a pocket dimension made of swirling black and gray and green smoke. “When I was born, Odin feared me so much that he stole me from my father and imprisoned me here. I have never known anything else.”

Peter quickly caught on. “You want me to free you?”

Hela’s dead shoulder raised in what might have been a shrug. “You are a powerful sorcerer — your father’s blood magic has made it so — and now that you hold Earth, Odin is your prisoner. You have the power to do so.”

It was tempting, but Peter felt his shoulders tense. He knew better than to take a gift at face value. “How do I know that you won’t turn on us if I do? If Odin feared you, why shouldn’t I?”

Hela looked like she’d expected his question. “A blood oath,” she whispered. “Your father knew the way of such deals, and used them to trap both enemies and allies.” A knife appeared in her hand, similar to the sort of dagger that Loki sometimes used, except the metal was black and had a dull sheen to it.

Peter shook his head, and used the nanites in his belt to form a golden knife instead, similar to one of his spider-legs, but small and sharp. “I’d rather use mine.”

Hela looked at him, but didn’t object, and her dagger dissipated into mist before vanishing entirely. She held her arm out with her dead hand palm-up. “What shall we pledge?”

Peter put his hand on top of hers, his fingers lightly touching her wrist. Her skin was graying and dry, so thin it was almost translucent. Pale black veins stared at hin. “You will resurrect Stephen Strange and Tony Stark and restore them to their full forms using the eternal flame. In return for this, I will free you and you will be my true and honest ally, neither of us ever harming or betraying the other.” He raised the knife, the point poking against the back of his hand. He squirmed, trying to force his hand to move. 

Unbidden, the image of Strange, weak and exhausted after a difficult spell, appeared in his mind. _ Pain is temporary. Focus on the goal. _

Peter breathed once, twice, and pushed the knife through his hand.

* * *

Mordo raised the hood as his cloak as he walked through the halls of the prison. Each room had three walls of glass that let you look in but not out, offering no privacy and allowing the inmates to be secretly observed at any moment. It was enough to make even the calmest person into a paranoid mess. Luckily, the person he sought was asleep, and had been for years.

He found the man he was looking for and silently entered the room, his shoes making no noise. The cell had just enough room for two people to stand alongside the sleeping man. One eye was closed, the other hidden by an oval-shaped piece of gray metal. Hair that had once been cut short had since grown long enough to hand over the side of the bed. Silver cuffs restrained his wrists, ankles, and waist. Mordo passed his hands over each of them in turn, freeing the man. 

There were few sorcerers capable of portalling in and out of the prison. Mordo was one of them. He took the man to a quiet shore on the coast of Norway, dropping him on the grass as he slowly broke into consciousness. 

Thor sat up, his one eye blinking tiredly. “Where am I? Who . . . _ YOU!_”

It appeared that years in a magic-induced coma had not dampened the man’s voice. “Me.”

Thor forced himself to his knees, raising one hand for Mjolnir. Mordo rolled his eyes. “That won’t work. The hammer is so far away that it would take _ years _ to come back to you.”

Thor glared at him, never lowering his hand. “What do you want?”

Finally, Mordo lowered his hood. “I want you to find someone who can help both of us.”

* * *

“_My king_,” Okoye said over the comm, “_there is a man approaching the border._”

T’Challa felt his pulse spike. He schooled his face until it was a mask of calm before answering. “Is it one of Peter’s officers?”

“_No. My king—_” Okoye stopped. When she spoke again, it sounded like she was trying not to sound shaken. “_T’Challa, it’s Thor._”

* * *

Stephen wrapped a blanket around the Asgardian’s shoulders, nodding in response to the man’s quiet ‘thank you’. Thor quietly sipped his drink before looking up at them. His single eye focused on Stephen. “I thought the other wizard might have lied when he woke me up.”

Stephen arched a brow. “And?”

A beat passed before Thor shook his head. “You’re not him. Your eyes are different.”

“Less green?” Stephen asked, remembering the odd green-and-silver look that Strange’s eyes had.

“Less murderous.”

“Oh.”

Thor nodded. “Yes. Also, less green.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Great.”

Thor ignored him. “In the days after Stark broke from the Avengers, they began picking off his former team members one by one. But they chose to capture me rather than kill me.”

“Why’d they do that?” Parker asked, leaning forward and listening to Thor with rapt attention. 

After being alone in his head for so long, Thor seemed to appreciate the focus. “Easier, perhaps? Maybe Strange wanted to use me in one of his dark rituals or manipulate Loki with me? Who knows what happens in that man’s head.”

_ Not much at the moment_, Stephen thought to himself before lightly tracing his through until he saw Tony watching him. “Nothing.” 

Tony smiled good-naturedly, giving his wrist a gentle squeeze before turning back to Thor. “Why did Mordo let you go?”

Thor’s eye darkened. “He wanted me to find you. He said that the young Stark is planning something with my brother.”

“Loki?” Stephen asked.

Thor looked at him. “Yes. What other brother would I mean?”

Stephen tiredly closed his eyes. “Nevermind. How did you find us?”

Thor smiled sadly and gestured to his good eye. Tony noticed for the first time that it was gold instead of blue. “A trick an old friend taught me.” Thor looked thoughtful for a moment before returning to his story. “Mordo believes that Peter — not the one listening to me now, the other one — is attempting to resurrect his parents.”

Tony sat up. “Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Thor said. “They are some of the most evil men I have ever known. And if what he said is true, then I can’t imagine they’re particularly fond of you.” He looked at Stephen and Tony, the former of whom shifted awkwardly. “We have to stop him. Now.” He started to stand before falling back into his chair. “In a few minutes. My legs are still asleep.”

Tony turned around, looking at T’Challa. “You gonna lend a paw?”

Stephen groaned.

“I know, it’s not my best. Give me a break, it’s been a long week.”

T’Challa’s face was stone, but his eyes were tinged with regret when he shook his head. “I can’t take that risk. Too many lives depend upon me. I can only wish you luck.”

“Great. Thanks. That’s a lot less helpful than an army would be.”

* * *

Peter brushed a hand over Stark’s face, watching the glassy black stone turn back into warmly-tanned flesh. The spell spread over Stark and to his husband, until they were two normal bodies laying on the cold ground. Peter sat down with his knees drawn up to him, looking at them. “It’s gonna be okay. I fixed it. It’s all gonna end now, and we’ll go back to normal.”

* * *

Stephen reached a hand back to touch Parker’s arm, checking that he was still there. All three of them were covered in layers of glamours that would hopefully keep them from being spotted. _ Tony, _ Stephen thought, his voice echoing in Tony and Parker’s minds, _ think you can get us in? _

He felt Tony brush against him as the armored man stepped forward and look at the tall building. _ God only knows what kind of security measures my doppelganger had in place, but with him on the sidelines and Peter distracted, should be a breeze. Gimme five minutes. _

It took three minutes. When Tony came back, Stephen said, _ That was six minutes. _

Tony made an offended noise before lightly swatting Stephen’s ass.

Parker looked around in confusion. _ What was that noise?! _

Tony and Stephen paused awkwardly. _ Probably just from one of the rooms inside. C’mon, let’s go. _

Stephen stood near a wall and opened a portal into it, taking them into a room inside. _ Looks like an office. _

_ The bedrooms are probably upstairs if I built this place, _ Tony offered. _ I love a view. _

Stephen nodded before remembering that they couldn’t see him. _ We’ll start there. _ They didn’t know where Peter might be, but this was as good a place to start as any since searching the Sanctums would almost certainly result in them being captured. 

A few more portals heading up, and they were in the top floor. A canopied bed stood at the head of the room, close to a table laden with papers and folders. Opposite of the door was an all-glass wall. They weren’t in New York City anymore, but a small town seemed to have sprung up around what had once been the Avengers Compound. Beyond the oddly-placed Coliseum and the barracks and training areas, there were dozens of small buildings and tall apartment complexes and perfectly-organized streets. From high enough, they could see a number of police bots modeled after the Iron Man suits patrolling the town. 

_ Any idea whose room this in? _ Tony asked. Security had been down for over a minute now, and they had no idea when it would go back on. 

Stephen walked over to the table, lightly filtering through the papers. _ Looks like this is Pepper’s. _ He frowned at one file he saw detailing Wong’s arrest. _ Fuck. I think Peter might— _

Stephen stopped, the Cloak whirling him around as he heard a scream. Stephen choked on his words when he caught sight of Peter, holding Parker by the throat as burning red ropes wrapped around his arms and legs, holding him in place. Behind them, Tony suddenly came to life in a blaze of gold and red color, but before he could do anything, Karl Mordo appeared, a set of gold whips moving from his hand to trap Tony, using both hands to hold him still.

Stephen tried to move, to run to them, to do _ anything_, but he was frozen in place, unable to move as something held his feet to the ground. “Pet . . .” The name died on his lips as even his face grew still.

“This is what everyone wanted, right?” Peter asked, his voice deadly cold. “My family ripped apart?” He shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter which ones, as long as they look the same.” His hands moved from Parker’s neck to his head, _ squeezing_.

Parker whimpered before he could stop himself.

Stephen desperately tried to pull himself forward. _ No . . . let them— _

“Go?” Peter asked, staring at him. “You didn’t let my dad go.” He flexed his arm, and the nanites moved, forming a golden knife sharper than glass, and held it to Parker’s jugular. The metal had a silvery sheen to it that reminded him of Strange’s eyes. “Why not? I need the blood.” The point of the knife pricked Parker’s skin, summoning a shiny bead of red.

Stephen summoned all his strength, his magic making him burn and glow green, to say, “_Peter—_”

As though that was his cue, Tony broke free of Mordo’s whips, taking inspiration from Peter to form one gauntlet into a sword. His foot banged on the floor as he wan forward, but Mordo’s whips rang out again, pulling Tony’s arm back. Mordo planted his feet on the ground, wincing as he tightened his hold and twisted his hand, just managing to rip the sword free. Tony was already working on replacing it with a cannon, but before he could get into the air, a shot from Peter’s free hand had him falling forward—

—right onto the sword Mordo was holding. 

Stephen screamed without realizing it, staring in horror as Tony was impaled on his own weapon. Tony let out a pained noise, dazedly looking down, as though he hadn’t realized what happened.

Stephen desperately tried to drag himself forward, only managing to take a step before Peter suddenly moved, his knife a glint of gold and silver as it moved from one side of Parker’s throat to the other, spilling ruby-red blood on the dark floor. 

Careless, Peter threw his double’s body to the floor, watching without emotion as he twitched and throbbed on the ground. 

“Look what you’ve done,” Peter said softly, his eyes half-closed. “This is all your fault.” No one could tell who he was talking to. There were tears on his cheeks. “Why did you . . .”

He sighed, sitting down a few feet away from the blood. Tony was panting, his lips stained red as he kept coughing. Parker desperately held a hand to his throat.

Peter rested his head against a wall before opening his eyes fully. “I thought it would be different. I thought it would be . . . I don’t know. _ Right._” He turned suddenly to Mordo. “Bring me Wong and Thor. I’ll be needing them later.”

Mordo nodded once and walked out through a portal, dispassionately stepping over Peter and Tony.

When he was gone, Peter relaxed a bit, waiting a moment before speaking again. “I want to fix everything, but I think I just keep making it worse.” He looked at Stephen. “Do you want to fix it?”

Stephen didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He was frozen once more, unable to move, to even comfort Tony and Parker as they bled out. _ Please . . . there was no time, we had no time . . . _

Peter didn’t bother waiting for an answer. “You still have the Eye of Agamotto in your universe. If you get back fast enough, you could save them without bringing them back to life altogether. You could have them back and not break the natural law.”

Stephen stared at him. _ Why? Why are you taunting me? _

Peter shrugged. “Call me sentimental.” After a moment, he added, “And if you stay here, Vishanti only know what people would do to get you back or . . .” He chuckled without humor. “_Avenge _ you.” He pulled himself up, carefully stepping around Parker’s hand until he was standing in front of Stephen. “So here’s my deal: leave. Go back to your world, and never return. No matter what you think is happening or how much your moral compass pulls you back. Remember this.” He cupped Stephen’s face, staring at him with desperate brown-and-gold eyes. He looked so tired, so sad and broken, that despite himself, despite his own anger and grief and confusion, Stephen felt a glimpse of pity. “Remember. And leave.” 

They stared at each other for a moment longer before Peter pulled away, making himself breathe. He managed to gather his strength enough to look almost confident when he asked, “So what’s it gonna be?”

* * *

Stephen rolled over until he was standing, flexing his pained, scarred hands before grabbing the Eye of Agamotto from around his neck. He checked Tony’s pulse first, cursing when he felt how slow it was. “I’ve got you, Tony, I’ve got you.” Sounds of moving metal came from the Eye when Stephen opened it, then the low glow of green light as he turned back time.

* * *

Peter stood at the head of a slab of stone, watching in silence as Hela worked. Nearby, Wong and Thor’s bodies rested on the ground, pale from blood loss. Peter looked away. It was not his fault. Hela had killed them, not him, and he still had Odin and Hela’s oath to fall back on if Loki was angered. He hadn’t broken anything. He _ fixed _ everything. He did.

He froze when a hand suddenly wrapped around his wrist, a pair of dark brown eyes staring up at him. His father’s face smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And at long last, the song comes to an end
> 
> I hope you guys liked it! It probably wasn't what you were expecting, but I had a lot of fun writing it, and hopefully some of you will stick around to see what I write in the future!


End file.
